"If you please. I am all attention."
"And you will not be angry with your old friend, who talks for your good?"
"Of course not. What in the world is this preface about?"
And Sibyl's large eyes were fixed surprised on the fair, florid face of the matron.
"Well, then, Sibyl, it's my opinion you're jealous of some one," said the old lady, with the air of one who has made a discovery.
Sibyl's dark face flushed, and then grew very pale.
"And that's a very miserable feeling, my dear," said Mrs. Brantwell, composedly, "and also very foolish. No sensible person ever gives way to it, because they only bestow their affections on those in whom they can place implicit trust. Now, I hope you have too much good sense to fancy Mr. Drummond can care for any one in this world more than you."
Sibyl sat with her face averted, and made no reply.
"I had too high an opinion of you, Sibyl," went on the old lady, very gravely, "to think you could stoop to be jealous of any one, much less an insignificant little girl like this Christie. Don't be angry, my love; I am talking for your good. And indeed you have not the slightest cause to fear a rival; for, go where you will, you cannot find one more peerlessly beautiful than yourself. I don't say this to make you vain—though I know you, my queenly darling, could never be vain—but it is to inspire you with confidence. Come, my dear child, shake off this feeling that is unworthy of you. Mr. Drummond, I feel assured, has never for an instant wavered in his fidelity to you."
"Who said I was jealous?" said Sibyl, passionately. "I am not. He dare not be false to me. Let him try it at his peril. He knows I am not one to be trifled with."