While they stood talking by the spring, Sybil Chase moved softly through the underbrush and looked down at them. After a moment's silent watch, she went back toward the place where she had left Laurence conversing with a group of persons who had become tired of wandering among the trees.
She remained a little way off from the party, and very soon he took occasion to join her. They began to converse, and gradually walked down the hill. Sybil did not appear to be leading him to any particular spot, but was walking as absently along as himself. She paused on a rise of ground which commanded a view of the dell. Sybil watched Laurence, but stood with her face turned from the spring. He caught sight of the pair standing in the dell—gave a quick start, while the color shot up to his forehead.
"Are you ill?" Sybil asked, gently.
"Look down there," he replied, pointing to Margaret and Hinchley, who were absorbed in conversation, Ralph holding his cousin's hand, while she wept unrestrainedly.
"It is Margaret," said Sybil.
"And Hinchley."
"They have come to see the spring."
"I perceive, Miss Chase;" he spoke bitterly.
"Nonsense, Mr. Laurence—you are not jealous? He is her cousin."
"No—I am displeased."