Sibilant

“ Sibylla, I had far rather been stabbed than have heard it.”
“A fearful sum, truly, to be doled out of your coffers!” cried Sibylla, sarcastically. “You’ll never recover it, I should think!”
“Not that, not that,” was the reply of Lionel, his tone one of pain. “Sibylla! have you no sense of the fitness of things? Is it seemly for the mistress of Verner’s Pride to keep a poor woman, as Mrs. Duff is, out of her money; a humble shopkeeper who has to pay her way as she goes on?”
“I wish Fred had lived! ”

“ Let me leave that answer to this fair maiden, for by rights it is a challenge to her sex, not to mine.”
“How say you, then, Mistress Warner?” said the dame. “Suppose a young heiress, of the loftiest birth, of the broadest lands, of the comeliest form—suppose her wooed by a gentleman poor and stationless, but with a mighty soul, born to achieve greatness, would she lower herself by hearkening to his suit?”
“A maiden, methinks,” answered Sibyll, with reluctant but charming hesitation, “cannot love truly if she love unworthily; and if she love worthily, it is not rank nor wealth she loves.” ”

“ Sibylla would not have dared to annoy her; not to Decima or to Lucy; but to her husband. How weary his ear was, how weary his spirit, no tongue could tell. She tried him in every way—she did nothing but find fault with him. When he stayed out, she grumbled at him for staying, meeting him with reproaches on his entrance; when he remained in, she grumbled at him. In her sad frame of mind, it was essential—there are frames of mind in which it is essential, as the medical men will tell you; where the sufferer cannot help it—that she should have some object on which to vent her irritability. ”

“ Knowing his thought and what his heart was towards her, Sibylla turned to him as a child turns simply from a hard to a loving face. Here was a life wanting her life, a love asking hers. She had always believed people when they said they loved and wanted her—why, she had believed even Grantley himself!—and was always convinced that their love for her was all they said it was. It was her instinct to believe that. She believed all—aye, more—about young Blake than he believed about himself, though he believed very much just now; and she would always have people all white or all black. ”

“ I am sure you wrong yourself! You are one of those who can be in the world yet not of it; your mind is too open and pure to be sullied, even by contact with evil things. I will believe nothing you say against your own sweet and noble character,—and, Sibyl, let me again ask you not to distress me by this constant harping on the subject of my wealth, or I shall be inclined to look upon it as a curse,—I should love you as much if I were poor——”
“Oh, you might love me”—she interrupted me, with a strange smile—“but you would not dare to say so!” ”

“ Sibylla flung his arm from her. “Do you want to keep me as a beggar? I will have the ponies!”
He shook his head. “The subject is settled, Sibylla. If you cannot think for yourself, I must think for you. But it was not to speak of the ponies that I brought you here. What is it that you owe to Mrs. Duff?”
Sibylla’s colour heightened. “It is no business of yours, Lionel, what I owe her. There may be some little trifle or other down in her book. It will be time enough for you to concern yourself with my little petty debts when you are asked to pay them.” ”

“ She drew nearer to Sibyll; she twined her arm round her slight form, and kissed her forehead.
“Shall I love thee, Sibyll?” she said, with a girl’s candid simplicity, “and wilt thou love me?”
“Ah, lady! there are so many to love thee,—father, mother, sister,—all the world; the very sun shines more kindly upon the great!”
“Nay!” said Anne, with that jealousy of a claim to suffering to which the gentler natures are prone, “I may have sorrows from which thou art free. I confess to thee, Sibyll, that something I know not how to explain draws me strangely towards thy sweet face. ”

“ Sibylla implored. "Your life will come back to you in the sunshine and the country air. We shan't let you feel like that. Why, it's full of life here. There's a wedding to-morrow, Mr. Mumple! And another engaged couple—my brother and Miss Raymore! And you'll like my husband, and I'll bring my baby boy to see you."
"Such a pretty little dear," exclaimed Mumples.
"You must take an interest in us," smiled Sibylla; "and then you'll be pleased when we are—won't he, Mumples? Because you're to be one of us, just as your wife is." ”

“ Sibyll smiled faintly, and answered, "Provoke not too much the aspiring folly of my nature. Content is better than ambition."
"Thou ownest thy ambition?" asked Hastings, curiously.
"Ah, sir, who hath it not?"
"But for thy sweet sex ambition has so narrow and cribbed a field."
"Not so; for it lives in others. I would say," continued Sibyll, colouring, fearful that she had betrayed herself, "for example, that so long as my father toils for fame, I breathe in his hope, and am ambitious for his honour." ”

“ Dazzled so blind by her beautiful face that never a fault he sees!
If ever a woman on earth might hope to be worshipped for mind alone,
Or heart or soul, ’twas Saville, who was worthy the love of a prince to have known,—
But ah! ’tis impossible—nature revolts—men may sin against God on high,
But not ’gainst the law of selection; however they truckle and lie
And successfully feign, they cannot love a thing from which love must fly,—
Poor girl! ”

“ My sister Sybil loved Guy, and would have died rather than sacrifice him to a mob of parvenu nobles. She is gone, and you are come in her stead, the saints know how! You are not the Sybil whom I loved, but a stranger,—a cold, calculating, politic, false-hearted woman. Heartless, ungenerous, faithless, false! I sweep you out of my heart this day, as if you had never entered it. You are false to Guy, and false to God. I will never, never, never forgive you! From this hour you are no more to me than the meanest Paynim idolatress whom I would think scorn to touch! ”

“ Oh, I shall laugh then, when they find the old house empty!”
“May our dear Lord bless thee—bless thee, child,” sobbed Sibyll, clasping the boy in her arms, and kissing him, while her tears bathed his cheeks.
A light gleamed on the threshold; Madge, holding a candle, appeared with Warner, his hat and cloak thrown on in haste. “What is this?” said the poor scholar. “Can it be true? Is mankind so cruel? What have I done, woe is me! what have I done to deserve this?”
“Come, dear father, quick,” said Sibyll, drying her tears, and wakened by the presence of the old man into energy and courage. ”

“ Decima had hastened forward to welcome Sibylla. Decima was one, who, in her quiet way, was always trying to make the best of surrounding circumstances,—not for herself, but for others. Let things be ever so dark, she would contrive to extract out of them some little ray of brightness. Opposite as they were in person, in disposition she and Jan were true brother and sister. She came forward to the door, a glad smile upon her face, and dressed rather more than usual: it was one of her ways, the unwonted dress, of showing welcome and consideration to Sibylla. ”

“ Bitter aggravation lay in her tone, bitter aggravation in her gesture. Was Lionel tempted to forget himself?—to set her right? If so, he beat the temptation down. All men would not have been so forbearing.
“Sibylla, I have told you truth,” he simply said.
“Which is as much as to say that Fred told—” she was vehemently beginning, when the words were stopped by the entrance of John Massingbird. John, caught in the shower near Deerham Court, made no scruple of running to it for shelter, and was in time to witness Sibylla’s angry tones, and inflamed face. ”

“ Artfully was the question put, and Hastings smiled to himself in imagining the reply it must bring; and then Sibyll answered, with the blush which the very subject called forth,
“Alas, my lord, I am but a poor casuist, but I feel that if I asked thee to forfeit whatever men respect,—honour and repute for valour, to be traitor and dastard,—thou couldst love me no more; and marvel you if, when man woos woman to forfeit all that her sex holds highest,—to be in woman what dastard and traitor is in man,—she hears her conscience and her God speak in a louder voice than can come from a human lip? ”

“ The counsel suited both Sibyll and Warner. Indeed, the philosopher could not very easily have been induced to separate himself again from the beloved Eureka; and Sibyll was more occupied at that hour with thoughts and prayers for the beloved Hastings,—afar, a wanderer and an exile,—than with the turbulent events amidst which her lot was cast.
In the storms of a revolution which convulsed a kingdom and hurled to the dust a throne, Love saw but a single object, Science but its tranquil toil. ”

“ They can’t afford to buy themselves much, you know: the doctor keeps them so short,” added Jan.
“I would have brought them something, if I had thought of it; I would, indeed!” exclaimed Sibylla, in an accent of contrition. “Is it not a pity, Lionel?”
“I wish you had,” replied Lionel. “Can you give them nothing of what you have brought?”
“Well—I—must—consider,” hesitated Sibylla, who was essentially selfish. “The things are so beautiful; so expensive: they are scarcely suited to Deborah and Amilly.”
“Why not?” questioned Jan.
“You have not a bit of sense, Jan,” grumbled Sibylla. ”

“ Will you let it remain a secret between us?”
“I will, Sibylla. I will never speak upon the point to Dr. West.”
“Papa said that I must choose Frederick Massingbird. He told me that Verner’s Pride was left to Frederick, and he ordered me to marry him. He did not say how he knew it—how he heard it; he only said that it was so. He affirmed that you were cut off with nothing, or next to nothing; that you would not be able to take a wife for years—perhaps never. And I weakly yielded.”
A strangely stern expression had darkened Lionel’s face. Sibylla saw it, and wrung her hands. ”

“ Not to youth as to age, not to loving fancy as to baffled wisdom, has seclusion charms that compensate for the passionate and active world! On coming back to the old house, on glancing round its mildewed walls, comfortless and bare, the neglected, weed-grown garden, Sibyll had shuddered in dismay. Had her ambition fallen again into its old abject state? ”

“ And yet, Sibyll, this young man can in all, save wealth and a sounding name, give thee more than I can,—a heart undarkened by moody memories, a temper unsoured by the world’s dread and bitter lore of man’s frailty and earth’s sorrow. ”

“ Proud as I have thought myself, I could kneel at his feet for one such word and glance as he just gave Miss Burton. For contempt I return him honor and admiration. I cannot help myself. By some strange perversity of my heart, I have become his very slave. How can he be so blind! He thinks me pining for a man that I despise and hate more than he ever can, though the fellow attempted his life. Sibley has come between me and that which is more than life—my chance for happiness and right living. ”

“ Wherefore?—Sibyll felt her superiority of mind, of thought, of nature,—wherefore the contrast? The success was that of man, the discomfiture that of woman. Woe to the man who precedes his age; but never yet has an age been in which genius and ambition are safe to woman!
The father and the child turned into their house. The day was declining. Adam mounted to his studious chamber, Sibyll sought the solitary servant.
"What tidings, oh, what tidings? The war, you say, is over; the great earl, his sweet daughter, safe upon the seas, but Hastings—ob, Hastings! ”

“ The violent prejudices, the ignorant cruelty, thus brought to bear against existence itself, filled her with sadness, it is true, but not unmixed with that contempt for her persecutors, which, even in the meekest tempers, takes the sting from despair. But hunger pressed. Her father was nearing the goal of his discoveries, and in a moment of that pride which in its very contempt for appearances braves them all, Sibyll had stolen out to the pastime- ground,—with what result has been seen already. ”

“ Sibyl, what is wrong with us both? How is it that we do not seem to find the loveliest side of love?—why is it that even in our kisses and embraces, some impalpable darkness comes between us, so that we anger or weary each other when we should be glad and satisfied? ”

“ He sat watching Sibylla as she played with her baby-boy. He took a hand in the game now and then, since, for a bachelor, he was at his ease with babies; but most of the time he watched. But he watched sympathetically; Sibylla did not fear to show her love before his eyes. The baby was very young for games—for any that a man could play. But Sibylla knew some that he liked; he gave evidence of a strangely dawning pleasure distinct from physical contentment—of wonder, of amusement, of an appreciation of fun, of delight in the mock assaults and the queer noises which his mother directed at him. ”

“ I will do it! I will marry whomever you please!'
'You villain!' cried a voice, and there was Sibylle standing in the opening of the curtains at one of the windows. Her face was pale with anger and her eyes shining with scorn; the parting curtains framed her tall, slim figure, which leaned forwards in her fury of passion. She had forgotten the Emperor, the Empress, everything, in her revulsion of feeling against this craven whom she had loved. ”