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Here
we
were
interrupted
by
the
entrance
of
a
footman
.
"
The
carriage
is
waiting
,
Miss.
"
"
Thanks
--
all
right
.
Good-night
Mr
Tempest
--
you
'd
better
send
word
to
Sibyl
you
are
here
;
Lord
Elton
is
dining
out
,
but
Sibyl
will
be
at
home
all
the
evening
.
"
I
offered
her
my
arm
,
and
escorted
her
to
the
carriage
,
feeling
a
little
sorry
for
her
as
she
drove
off
in
solitary
state
to
the
festive
'
crush
'
of
the
successful
varnisher
.
She
was
a
good
girl
,
a
bright
girl
,
a
true
girl
--
vulgar
and
flippant
at
times
,
yet
on
the
whole
sincere
in
her
better
qualities
of
character
and
sentiment
--
and
it
was
this
very
sincerity
which
,
being
quite
unconventional
and
not
at
all
la
mode
,
was
misunderstood
,
and
would
always
be
misunderstood
by
the
higher
and
therefore
more
hypocritically
polished
circles
of
English
society
.
I
returned
to
the
drawing-room
slowly
and
meditatively
,
telling
one
of
the
servants
on
my
way
to
ask
Lady
Sibyl
if
she
could
see
me
for
a
few
moments
.
I
was
not
kept
waiting
long
;
I
had
only
paced
the
room
twice
up
and
down
when
she
entered
,
looking
so
strangely
wild
and
beautiful
that
I
could
scarcely
forbear
uttering
an
exclamation
of
wonder
.
She
wore
white
as
was
always
her
custom
in
the
evenings
--
her
hair
was
less
elaborately
dressed
than
usual
,
and
clustered
over
her
brow
in
loose
wavy
masses
--
her
face
was
exceedingly
pale
,
and
her
eyes
appeared
larger
and
darker
by
comparison
--
her
smile
was
vague
and
fleeting
like
that
of
a
sleep-walker
.
She
gave
me
her
hand
;
it
was
dry
and
burning
.
"
My
father
is
out
--
"
she
began
.
"
I
know
.
But
I
came
to
see
you
.
May
I
stay
a
little
?
"
She
murmured
assent
,
and
sinking
listlessly
into
a
chair
,
began
to
play
with
some
roses
in
a
vase
on
the
table
beside
her
.
"
You
look
tired
Lady
Sibyl
,
"
--
I
said
gently
--
"
Are
you
not
well
?
"
