"No!" replied Sybil; "but I must know; I can see for myself without being told, that Mr.
Racliffe is trying to make you marry him. I don't ask out of curiosity; this is something
that concerns me nearly as much as it does you yourself. Please tell me! don't treat me
like a child any longer! let me know what you are thinking about! I am so tired of being
left in the dark!
You have no idea how much this thing weighs on me. Oh, Maude, I shall never be
happy again until you trust me about this."
Mrs. Lee felt a little pang of conscience, and seemed suddenly to become conscious of
a new coil, tightening about her, in this wretched complication. Unable to see her way,
ignorant of her sister's motives, urged on by the idea that Sybil's happiness was
involved, she was now charged with want of feeling, and called upon for a direct answer
to a plain question.
How could she aver that she did not mean to marry Mr. Ratcliffe? to say this would be to
shut the door on all the objects she had at heart. If a direct answer must be given, it was
better to say "Yes!" and have it over; better to leap blindly and see what came of it. Mrs.
Lee, therefore, with an internal gasp, but with no visible sign of excitement, said, as
though she were in a dream:
"Well, Sybil, I will tell you. I would have told you long ago if I had known myself. Yes! I
have made up my mind to marry Mr. Ratcliffe!"
Sybil sprang to her feet with a cry: "And have you told him so?" she asked.
"No! you came and interrupted us just as we were speaking. I was glad you did come,
for it gives me a little time to think. But I am decided now. I shall tell him to-morrow."
This was not said with the air or one wnose heart beat warmly at the thought of
confessing her love. Mrs. Lee spoke mechanically, and almost with an effort. Sybil flung
herself with all her energy upon her sister; violently excited, and eager to make herself
heard, without waiting for arguments, she broke out into a torrent of entreaties: "Oh,
don't, don't, don't! Oh, please, please, don't, my dearest, dearest Maude! unless you
want to break my heart, don't marry that man! You can't love him! You can never be
happy with him! he will take you away to Peonia, and you will die there! I shall never see
you again! He will make you unhappy; he will beat you, I know he will! Oh, if you care
for me at all, don't marry him! Send him away! don't see him again! let us go ourselves,
now, in the morning train, before he comes back. I'm all ready; I'll pack everything for
you; we'll go to Newport; to Europe--anywhere, to be out of his reach!"
With this passionate appeal, Sybil threw herself on her knees by her sister's side, and,
clasping her arms around Madeleine's waist, sobbed as though her heart were already
broken. Had Carrington seen her then he must have admitted that she had carried out
his instructions to the letter. She was quite honest, too, in it all. She meant what she
said, and her tears were real tears that had been pent up for weeks. Unluckily, her logic
