Sybil had lost somewhat of her rich bloom; but her dark eyes were bright as ever. Her black hair flowed from under her triangular cap, and hung like a silky veil over her shoulders, the curve of which, as she knelt with her head bent forward, was eminently beautiful. The edge of each large ringlet, the pearls of her cap, and the top of her smooth forehead, were all tipped with pale light by the tapers. She wore a long dress of purple satin, with an open neck; and in the light and shadow its folds seemed to glitter with many prismatic hues. It is impossible to say whether it was the brilliant and piquant expression, the noble features, and pure complexion of Sybil's face that made her adorable, but, taken together, these attributes of the old Douglas race made her singularly so. The moment their orisons were over, the old countess arose to the full extent of her great stature; and though aged, being unbent, her figure was remarkably elegant, its height being increased by her shoes--the "cork-heeled shoon" of our old national ballad--and after solemnly crossing herself three several times, she extinguished the tapers on the altar, and kissed Sybil with all the affection of a mother. The sole light in the chamber now came from two wax-candles, which were held in the outstretched arms of a grotesque figure of Florentine workmanship, placed on the dressing-table at the farther end, and immediately opposite the window where the earl had perched himself. CHAPTER XL. SYBIL. "Come, my Antonia, come, I'll lead thee to the blissful land of love,-- I'll lead thee to the pinnacle of joys, Where round thy path the fairest flowers of earth Shall bloom in radiant beauty to reward Thy noble deed--come, dearest."--THEODORE KÖRNER. A guttural laugh announced to the earl that Sabrino had also ascended the ladder, and was rejoicing at the sight of his mistress. "Hold fast! by my faith, thou hast the hands and feet of a marmoset. Hush! I would hear them talk a little," said the noble, adjusting himself upon his giddy perch. "By Jove! we are like a couple of crows up here--thou like the black, and I like a white one." "Ees," grinned Sabrino, whose whole vocabulary was nearly comprised in that sound. The moment their orisons were over, Sybil went to the opposite window, and, withdrawing the curtains, gazed steadfastly towards the eastern end of the little valley. "Dost thou see it again, bairn--that ill-omened light?" asked the countess, approaching. "Yes; oh, yes!" replied Sybil, with a voice of surprise and fear; "brighter to-night than ever before." "Then it must be either a corpse-licht, that burneth on the grass, to mark where a slain man sleeps, or a fairy-candle, at the rock where the whin-bushes grow. Corpse-lichts burn blue, and fairy-candles are siller white." "But this burns redly, and it brightens fast!"