At length the severe ordeal was, for the moment, over. She perceived
that her companions had finished breakfast, and so she arose from the
table, leaving her example to be followed by them.

"Let me lead you to our pleasant morning parlor. It is just across the
hall, and commands the same view of the lake and mountains that this
room does--from the front windows I mean; but from the end windows you
get a view _up_ the valley, and may catch glimpses of the Black Torrent
as it rushes roaring down the side of the mountain," said Mr. Berners,
as he offered his hand to Mrs. Blondelle and led her from the breakfast
parlor.

Sybil looked after them with pallid cheeks and darkening brows; then she
rushed up into her own chamber, locked her door, threw herself upon her
bed and gave way to a storm of sobs and tears. While she was still
weeping vehemently, there came a knock at the door. She lifted up her
head and listened; controlling her voice as well as she could, she
inquired:

"Who is there, and what is wanted?"

"It is I, my dear, and I want to come in," answered the voice of her
husband.

"I have not even the privilege of shutting myself up to weep alone! for
I belong to one who can invade my privacy or command my presence at his
pleasure!" exclaimed Sybil in bitterness of spirit; and yet bitterness
that was mingled with a strange, deep sweetness too! for she loved to
feel that _she did_ belong to Lyon Berners; that _he had_ the privilege
of invading her privacy, or commanding her presence at his pleasure. And
ah! _that_ was a happiness Rosa Blondelle would not share!

"Well, well, my darling! are you going to let me in?" inquired Mr.
Berners, after a moment of patient waiting.

"Yes, in an instant dear!" exclaimed Sybil, hastily wiping her eyes and
trying to efface all signs of weeping from her countenance.

Then she opened the door.

Her husband entered, closed the door, and then turned around with some
light, gay word; but at the sight of his wife's pale and agitated face,
he started in surprise and distress, exclaiming:

"Why, Sybil! Why, my darling! What on earth is the matter? What has
happened?"

At the sound of his anxious voice, at the sight of his troubled face,
Sybil turned aside, sank upon the corner of the sofa, dropped her head
upon its cushions, and yielded to a tempest of sobs and tears.

He hurried to her side, sat down and drew her head upon his bosom, and
in much alarm exclaimed again: