not know a word of what we would propose, nor whither we would fly."

"Child, he loves me, or why does he seek me so often, and sit and talk
not?"

Sibyll pressed her clasped hands tightly to her bosom, but made no
answer; and while she was summoning courage to say something that
seemed to oppress her thoughts with intolerable weight, a footstep
sounded gently near, and the Lady of Bonville (then on a visit to the
queen), unseen and unheard by the two, approached the spot. She
paused, and gazed at Sibyll, at first haughtily; and then, as the deep
sadness of that young face struck her softer feelings, and the
pathetic picture of father and child, thus alone in their commune,
made its pious and sweet effect, the gaze changed from pride to
compassion, and the lady said courteously,--

"Fair mistress, canst thou prefer this solitary scene to the gay
company about to take the air in her grace's gilded barge?"

Sibyll looked up in surprise, not unmixed with fear. Never before had
the great lady spoken to her thus gently. Adam, who seemed for a
while restored to the actual life, saluted Katherine with simple
dignity, and took up the word,--

"Noble lady, whoever thou art, in thine old age, and thine hour of
care, may thy child, like this poor girl, forsake all gayer comrades
for a parent's side!"

The answer touched the Lady of Bonville, and involuntarily she
extended her hand to Sibyll. With a swelling heart, Sibyll, as proud