"Forgive me, dear father, and forbear, if you love me, from such talk as this. I never could become an ill-used, suffering, snivelling wife. I _detest_ the picture as I utterly despise all weak and whimpering women. I have no sympathy whatever for your abused wives--even for your dethroned or beheaded queens. Why should a wife permit herself to be abused, or a queen suffer herself to be dethroned or beheaded, without first having done something to redeem herself from the contemptible role of a victim, even if it was to change it for the awful one of criminal--" "--Hush, Sybil, hush! You know not what you say. The Saviour of the world--" "----Was a divine martyr, father," said Sybil, reverently bowing her head--"was a divine martyr, not a victim. All who suffer and die in a great cause are martyrs; but those who suffer and die for nothing but of their own weakness are victims, with whom I have no sympathy. I never could be a _victim_, father." "Heaven help you, Sybil!" "You need not fear for me, father. I can take care of myself as well as if I were a son, instead of a daughter of the House of Berners," said Sybil, haughtily. "You may be able to protect yourself from all others, but can you always protect yourself _from yourself_?" sighed the old man. Sybil did not answer. "But, to come back to the point from which you started, like the fiery young filly that you are--Sybil, I greatly desire to see you married to some worthy young gentleman whom you can love and I approve." "Where can you find such an one, father?" murmured Sybil, with a quick, strange, wild hope springing up in her heart. What if he should speak of the young lawyer? But that was not likely. He spoke of some one else. "There is Ernest Godfree. No better match for you in the county. And I'm sure he worships the very ground you walk on." Sybil made an angry gesture, exclaiming: "Then I wish he would have respect enough for the ground he worships to keep himself off it altogether! I hate that man!" "Well, well, hate is a poor return for love! But we'll say no more of him. But there's Captain Pendleton, a brave young officer." "I wish his bravery were better employed in fighting the Indians on the frontier instead of besieging our house. I cannot endure that man!" "Let him pass then! Next there is Charles Hanbury--" "Ugh! the ugly little wretch." "But he is so good, so wise, for so young a man. And he is your devoted slave." "Then I wish my slave would obey his owner's orders, and keep out of her sight." "Sybil, you are incorrigible," sighed the old man, but he did not yield his main point. One after another he proposed for her consideration all the eligible young bachelors of the neighborhood, who, he knew, were ready upon the slightest encouragement to renew their once rejected suits for the hand of the beauty and heiress. But one after another Sybil, with some sarcastic word, dismissed.