"'Lovers in history' were they? I should take them to be lovers in mystery now, if I did not know them to be Mr. Berners and Mrs. Blondelle," persisted Beatrix, all unconscious of the blows she was raining upon Sybil's overburdened heart. "However," she added, "I shall keep out of the way of both, for if _he_ knew your disguise, be sure that _she_ knew it also; and of course both, in daily intercourse with you, know your voice equally well. And if either of them should take me for you and speak to me for you, and I should attempt to reply, I should be sure to betray myself. So I will keep away from both, if I can. If not, if they should come suddenly upon me and speak to me, I shall not answer, but shall turn around and walk silently away as if I were offended with them." "Yes, do that; that will be excellent," assented Sybil. "And now, how are you going to support my character, or rather my disguise?" inquired Beatrix. "By being very silent and demure as Janet Foster; or, if need should be, by carrying on your mood of sullenness as Beatrix Pendleton, masked." "That will do," agreed Beatrix, with a smile. All the while they had been speaking, they had also been taking off their fancy dresses. No time was lost, and the exchange of costume was quickly effected. "Now," said Sybil, "another favor." "Name it." "Let me go down first. Then do you wait ten minutes here before you follow me. And when you enter the room keep away from me, as well as from my husband and my guest." "Very well. I will do so. Anything else?" "Nothing now, thank you," said Sybil, kissing her hand as she left the room. And Sybil, dressed now in the plain, close-fitting camlet gown and prim white linen cap, cuffs, and collar of the Puritan maid, and with a pale, young looking mask on her face, reentered the saloon to try her experiment. She looked around, and soon saw her husband and her rival sitting side-by-side, on the little retired sofa in the corner. They were absorbed in each other's attractions, and did not see her. She glided cautiously into a seat near them. They were sitting very close together, talking in a very low tone. Her hand rested in his. At length, Sybil heard her inquire: "Where is your wife? I have not seen her for some time." "She has left the room, I believe," answered Mr. Berners. "Oh, that is such a relief! Do you know that I am really afraid of her?" "Afraid of her! why? With me you are always perfectly safe. Safe!" he repeated, with a light laugh--"why, of course you are! Besides, what could harm you? Of whom are you afraid? Your friend, my wife, Sybil? She is your friend, and would do you only good." Rosa Blondelle slowly shook her head, murmuring: "No, Lyon, your wife is not my friend--she is my deadly enemy. She is fiercely jealous of your affection for me, though it is the only happiness of my unhappy life. And she will make you throw me off yet."