Sibyl thanked her, smiling coldly. "You have given me an emblem of the Soul,"--she said; "No doubt you remembered I have no soul of my own!" And her airy laugh had chilled poor Diana 'to the marrow,' as the warm-hearted little American herself, with tears, assured me. At this period I saw very little of Rimânez. I was much occupied with my lawyers on the question of 'settlements.' Messrs Bentham and Ellis rather objected to the arrangement by which I gave the half of my fortune to my intended wife unconditionally; but I would brook no interference, and the deed was drawn up, signed, sealed and witnessed. The Earl of Elton could not sufficiently praise my 'unexampled generosity'--my 'noble character;'--and walked about, eulogising me everywhere, till he almost turned himself into a public advertisement of the virtues of his future son-in-law. He seemed to have taken a new lease of life,--he flirted with Diana Chesney openly,--and of his paralysed spouse with the fixed stare and deathly grin, he never spoke, and, I imagine, never thought. Sibyl herself was always in the hands of dressmakers and milliners,--and we only saw each other every day for a few minutes' hurried chat. On these occasions she was always charming,--even affectionate; and yet,--though I was full of passionate admiration and love for her, I felt that she was mine merely as a slave might be mine; that she gave me her lips to kiss as if she considered I had a right to kiss them because I had bought them, and for no other reason,--that her pretty caresses were studied, and her whole behaviour the result of careful forethought and not natural impulsiveness. I tried to shake off this impression, but it still remained persistently, and clouded the sweetness of my brief courtship.