In his vacillation there was every prospect of the proposal to elope being made, but prudence made him pause, and an observation of Sybil's changed the current of his ideas.
"Your father has acted most cruelly to poor mamma," said Sybil; "and most unjustly to his own brother's memory."
"My father is a—"
"Oh hush, Audley," said Sybil.
What epithet or adjective he was about to use in irritation at the chances of his allowance being cut off, we are unable to record, for Sybil's quick little hand intercepted it on his lips.
"And now we must separate—you will find the key inside the garden gate, so no more escalading; oh, leave me," she urged, "for if you were discovered—"
"One kiss more—one promise to remember me when I am gone."
"Oh, Audley, could I ever forget you?"
They were lingering now midway between the bower and the house, and the full splendour of the moonlight fell around them.
"And you will take back your ring," he whispered; and once more the eye of Vishnu glittered on the hand of Sybil. "Keep it as the memento of a poor fellow who loves you well—and you must do something more for me."