“Tell her that nothing dearer than duty would have taken me away from Hurstdene at the present moment; and that so soon as duty permits, I pledge myself to be here again. Meantime, I shall write to Maurice.” His tone gave additional force to his words. “Write often, do,” said Sybil, earnestly looking at him, with an appreciation of his meaning dawning on her. “As often as I can. I must not linger now.” He felt that he was understood, but dared not say more. They turned toward the house. “Mr. Huyton wants my father and Gwyneth to come over here to remain,” said Sybil, as they retraced their steps; “he is going to fetch them, if he can.” “That is very kind; it will be more comfortable for you.” They entered the saloon, and found Victoria there; Mr. Huyton was looking slightly impatient. Miss Fielding’s greetings and adieux were, like herself, lively, gracious, and emphatic. The traveler did not linger a minute more, and as soon as he was gone, Charles Huyton drove off to the Vicarage, for the purpose Sybil had named. The latter went out again for a short stroll. Hilary was sleeping, and her sister, fearful of disturbing her, resolved not to return until summoned on her awakening. Nest, though pretty well, had enjoyed so prolonged a slumber, that she was not yet dressed; so Sybil resolved to refresh herself by a solitary walk under the beautiful avenue in front of the house. The sound of a horse approaching roused her from her reverie, and looking up, she saw Mr. Farrington, who, immediately on perceiving her, alighted, and giving his horse to the groom, joined her in her walk. His object was to inquire for Miss Duncan; he had been deputed by the party at the Abbey to come over early for news; and the sisters themselves, or some of them, were intending to drive to “the Ferns” later in the day to see Sybil, and hear the bulletin in person. This was his account of himself; perhaps it would have been more strictly accurate, had he said that he had volunteered the service, which otherwise the groom would have performed alone; and that, though feeling a natural interest in the welfare of a young lady in such circumstances as Hilary, he yet thought and cared a great deal more about her sister. His fancy had been strangely captivated by the tall, handsome girl, whose appearance and manners had haunted his memory, and formed the principal subject of his conversation with Doro Barham all the morning. Sybil turned when he joined her, and walked toward the house, from which they were distant about a quarter of a mile; giving him, as they went along, first, an answer to his inquiries after her sister; and then a voluntary detail of her regret at parting with Captain Hepburn, whom they all valued so highly.