a divine martyr, father," said Sybil, reverently bowing her
head--"was a divine martyr, not a victim. All who suffer and die in a
great cause are martyrs; but those who suffer and die for nothing but of
their own weakness are victims, with whom I have no sympathy. I never
could be a _victim_, father."

"Heaven help you, Sybil!"

"You need not fear for me, father. I can take care of myself as well as
if I were a son, instead of a daughter of the House of Berners," said
Sybil, haughtily.

"You may be able to protect yourself from all others, but can you always
protect yourself _from yourself_?" sighed the old man.

Sybil did not answer.

"But, to come back to the point from which you started, like the fiery
young filly that you are--Sybil, I greatly desire to see you married to
some worthy young gentleman whom you can love and I approve."

"Where can you find such an one, father?" murmured Sybil, with a quick,
strange, wild hope springing up in her heart.

What if he should speak of the young lawyer? But that was not likely. He
spoke of some one else.

"There is Ernest Godfree. No better match for you in the county. And I'm
sure he worships the very ground you walk on."

Sybil made an angry gesture, exclaiming:

"Then I wish he would have respect enough for the ground he worships to
keep himself off it altogether! I hate that man!"

"Well, well, hate is a poor return for love! But we'll say no more of
him. But there's Captain Pendleton, a brave young officer."

"I wish his bravery were better employed in fighting the Indians on the
frontier instead of besieging our house. I cannot endure that man!"

"Let him pass then! Next there is Charles Hanbury--"

"Ugh! the ugly little wretch."

"But he is so good, so wise, for so young a man. And he is your devoted
slave."

"Then I wish my slave would obey his owner's orders, and keep out of her
sight."

"Sybil, you are incorrigible," sighed the old man, but he did not yield
his main point.

One after another he proposed for her consideration all the eligible
young bachelors of the neighborhood, who, he knew, were ready upon the
slightest encouragement to renew their once rejected suits for the hand
of the beauty and heiress.

But one after another Sybil, with some sarcastic word, dismissed.

"Sybil, you are a strange, wayward girl! It seems to me that for any man
to love you is to take a sure road to your hatred! And yet, oh, my dear!
I wish to see you sa