live. But after all, peradventure it is sweeter to love than to be
loved."

Anne, whose nature was singularly tender and woman-like, was greatly
affected by this answer. 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. Marriage has lost
me my only sister, for since Isabel is wed she is changed to me--would
that her place were supplied by thee! Shall I steal thee from the
queen when I depart? Ah, my mother--at least thou wilt love her! for
verily, to love my mother you have but to breathe the same air. Kiss
me, Sibyll."

Kindness, of late, had been strange to Sibyll, especially from her own
sex, one of her own age; it came like morning upon the folded blossom.
She threw her arms round the new friend that seemed sent to her from
heaven; she kissed Anne's face and hands with grateful tears.

"Ah!" she said at last, when she could command a voice still broken
with emotion--"if I could ever serve--ever repay thee--though those