“Sybil, my darling, you are really not well. Let me lead you out of this crowded room,” he whispered, very gently, laying his hand upon her shoulder.

She dashed it off as if it had been some venomous reptile, and turned upon him a look flaming with fiery wrath.

“Sybil you will certainly draw the attention of our guests,” he persisted, with much less gentleness than he had before spoken.

“If you touch me, or speak to me but once more—if you do not leave me on the instant, I will draw the attention of our guests, and draw it with a vengeance too!” she fiercely retorted, never once removing from him her flaming eyes.


CHAPTER XVIII.

LYING IN WAIT.

“He is with her; and they know that I know
Where they are, and what they do; they believe my tears flow
While they laugh, laugh at me, at me left in the drear
Empty hall to lament in, for them!—I am here.”—Browning.

“You are a lunatic, and fit only for a lunatic asylum!” was the angry comment of Lyon Berners, as he turned upon his heel and left his wife.