superstitions of the vulgar. Thou wilt see the Lord Hastings, and
thou mayst interest him in thy father's genius and his fate!"

"There is frankness in thy voice, and I will trust thee," answered
Sibyll. "When shall I seek this lord?"

"This day, if thou wilt. He lodges at the Tower, and gives access, it
is said, to all who need his offices, or seek succour from his power."

"This day, then, be it!" answered Sibyll, calmly.

Hilyard gazed at her countenance, rendered so noble in its youthful
resignation, in its soft firmness of expression, and muttering,
"Heaven prosper thee, maiden; we shall meet tomorrow," descended the
stairs, and quitted the house.

His heart smote him when he was in the street. "If evil should come
to this meek scholar, to that poor child's father, it would be a sore
sin to my soul. But no; I will not think it. The saints will not
suffer this bloody Edward to triumph long; and in this vast chessboard
of vengeance and great ends, we must move men to and fro, and harden
our natures to the hazard of the game."

Sibyll sought her father; his mind had flown back to the model. He
was already living in the life that the promised gold would give to
the dumb thought. True that all the ingenious additions to the
engine--additions that were to convince the reason and startle the
fancy--were not yet complete (for want, of course, of the diamond
bathed in moonbeams); but still there was enough in the inventions
already achieved to excite curiosity and obtain encouragement. So,