With the sunlight of her smile still shining on him, Rosa held out her hand, and said in the sweetest tones:
“Sir, I have no words good enough to tell you how deeply I feel your kindness and that of your dear wife to me.”
“Dear lady, Mrs. Berners and myself do but gratify our own tastes in trying to serve you; for it will be a great happiness to us if we succeed in doing so,” replied Lyon Berners, with a look and tone that proved his perfect sincerity and earnestness.
As thus they smiled and glanced, and spoke to each other, Sybil also glanced from the one to the other; a sudden pang shot through her heart, exciting a nameless dread in her mind. “Even so quickly may one catch the plague!”
“Let me lead you to the table,” said Mr. Berners, offering his arm to Mrs. Blondelle, and conducting her to her place.
Above all, Sybil was a lady; for she was a Berners. So, with this strange wound in her heart, this vague warning in her mind, she took her seat at the head of her table and did its honors with her usual courtesy and grace.
Mr. Berners seconded his wife in all hospitable attentions to their beautiful young guest.
While they were all still seated at the table, a groom rapped at the door and reported the stage-coach ready.
They all arose in a hurry, and began to make the last hasty preparations for departure.
Mrs. Blondelle hurried into her own room, to have her luggage taken down stairs to be put on the coach, and also to summon her nurse with the child.