"May my father's guest so prosper," answered Sibyll, "for he seems of
loyal heart and gentle nature!"

"Thou art unselfish, sweet mistress," said Hastings; and, surprised by
her careless tone, he paused a moment: "or art thou, in truth,
indifferent? Saw I not thy hand in his, when even those loathly
tymbesteres chanted warning to thee for loving, not above thy merits,
but, alas, it may be, above thy fortunes?"

Sibyll's delight increased. Oh, then, he had not applied that hateful
warning to himself! He guessed not her secret. She blushed, and the
blush was so chaste and maidenly, while the smile that went with it
was so ineffably animated and joyous, that Hastings exclaimed, with
unaffected admiration, "Surely, fair donzell, Petrarch dreamed of
thee, when he spoke of the woman-blush and the angel-smile of Laura.
Woe to the man who would injure thee! Farewell! I would not see thee
too often, unless I saw thee ever."

He lifted her hand to his lips with a chivalrous respect as he spoke;
opened the door, and called his page to attend her to the gates.

Sibyll was more flattered by the abrupt dismissal than if he had knelt
to detain her. How different seemed the world as her light step
wended homeward!




CHAPTER V.