Since Sibyl had been a child, Aunt Moll never remembered to have seen her weep before; and now, in her quaint, tender manner, she strove to soothe her grief. But still the young girl wept and sobbed with wild vehemence, until nature was relieved; and she looked up, calmer and far less despairing than before.
"Aunt Moll," she said, suddenly, "what time does Lem go over to Westport to-morrow?"
"Before noon, honey."
"Then tell him to be ready to take me to N—— before he goes for him! And now, Aunt Moll, I will follow your advice, and retire."
"But won't you take the catnip tea, chile?" persisted the old woman, who had some vague idea of the all-powerful virtues of the herb.
"No, no, thank you, I do not need it."
"But it'll do you good, chile; you'll feel more comfortable for it."
"Comfort! comfort! Can anything ever restore comfort here?" And she struck her breast with her hand.
"Yes, honey, de catnip tea."
"Good-night, Aunt Moll." And Sibyl flitted, like a shadow, up the long staircase, and disappeared in the gloom beyond.