On Sybil’s return, she seemed rather surprised to find that the message was to be intrusted to the groom; and apparently doubtful whether he could convey safely so important a verbal communication as that Miss Duncan was asleep, but seemed much the same, she indited a little note to Dora Barham; and by this means that young lady became possessed of the interesting fact, that the whole family from the Vicarage were expected at “the Ferns,” to remain there as long as Hilary’s health required it.
Nest, who was now quite well, had entered the room with Sybil, and the gentleman soon coaxed her on to his knee, and began conversing with her about her home, her father, and her sisters: they were excellent friends before Sybil’s note was finished.
“How wonderfully the sisters are alike,” said he to Victoria, as he gazed admiringly at the little one’s large black eyes and raven hair; “I should like a sketch of this child.”
“I believe I can show you some, although I can not give them to you,” replied Victoria, going to a large portfolio which was standing near. She opened the boards, and began to turn over the sketches it contained. He put down Nest, and went to examine it with great interest; there were many views in the forest, at the sight of which Nest frequently exclaimed she knew that spot, or she had seen this in Hilary’s sketch-book; and when Sybil joined them, she seemed to know every view, and owned that they had all been together, when such or such was done. At last they came to some groups of figures; the sisters again and again, Hilary always principal; and then single drawings, Sybil, Gwyneth, and Nest, evidently younger and more childish, but still very like. There was no finished drawing of Hilary alone; and Sybil owned that her sister never had sat to Mr. Huyton, as they had, again and again; she did not know why, perhaps he had never asked her: the views there were of her, were taken by stealth, or done from memory, perhaps.
“It is hardly fair to show drawings which so plainly tell a
tale,” whispered Mr. Farrington to Victoria, when Sybil had turned away to listen to Mrs. Fielding’s questions. “If these were mine, I would not allow them to be carelessly examined and investigated.”
“Oh! I am breaking no confidence,” replied Victoria, in a laughing whisper; “Charles makes no secret of his object; the whole plan and intention of yesterday’s fête, was to distinguish one person above all others; and though we did not propose to risk drowning her, yet, I believe, he will by no means regret the accident, if all ends well. At any rate, it has secured him some important advantages.”
Mr. Farrington looked excessively surprised at this communication, and made a mental determination to keep his own counsel, so far as Victoria was concerned, unless he wanted all the world to know his affairs.
Sybil disappeared again just after this, much to Mr. Farrington’s disappointment; the only amusement left for him was what Victoria supplied; and although she was very entertaining and agreeable, as he was wishing all the time for something else, her powers of pleasing were lost upon him.
“Where have you been?” was Victoria’s question, when Sybil joined them at the luncheon table; to which she replied, “she had gone out to finish her walk, as Hilary was still sleeping soundly; and she wished when her father arrived, to be quite fresh and ready to attend him.”