The next morning, Mrs. Flower requested her daughter to prepare for their return home, since there was no other way of relieving Mrs. Barton from the perpetual intrusion of the shameless nobleman, and his troublesome servant. Gentle as Sibella was, she experienced a feeling of hatred toward Lord Smallsoul, who, like an odious beast, had rushed into her paradise, trampling its flowers. She did not dispute her mother’s decision, for she felt that it was judicious; but _she_ also stood at the window a long time, looking out upon the hawthorn-hedge, associated with so many pleasant memories. Her eyes were moist when she turned and said, “Mother, before we go away, I should like to bid good-bye to some of the old places, where I have walked with--with--the children. You can go with me, if you are afraid of my meeting Mr. Vernon.” Sadly and sympathizingly, her mother answered, “You cannot meet Mr. Vernon, my child; for he has gone to Italy.” “Gone!” she exclaimed; and the sudden paleness and the thrilling tone cut her mother’s heart. She soothed her tenderly, and, after a while, Sibella raised her head, with an effort to assume maidenly pride, and said, “He never _told_ me he loved me. I sometimes _thought_ he did. But it was very foolish of me. If he cared for me, he would have said good-bye. I will think no more about it.” The mother was strongly tempted to tell how ardently and how honourably he loved. But she thought to herself, “It would only serve to keep alive hopes destined to end in disappointment.” So she put strong constraint on her feminine sympathies, and remained silent. They went forth into the green lanes bright with sunshine, but gloomy to eyes that saw them through a veil of tears. When Sibella came to the bush from which Edward had broken the first Eglantine he offered her, she gazed at it mournfully, and throwing herself on the bosom of her best earthly friend, sobbed out, “Oh mother, _mother_! I have been so _happy_ here!” “My poor, dear child,” she replied, “You don’t know how sorry I am for you. But these feelings will pass away with time. You are very young; and life is all before you.” The maiden looked up with inexpressible sadness in her eyes, and answered, “Yes, mother, I _am_ young; but life is all _behind_ me.” * * * * *