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But ah! whether it was that the long interruption of his conversations with the beautiful blonde had given a new zest to the pleasure he enjoyed in her society, or whether his admiration for her had been ever, under all circumstances, on the increase, or whether both these causes combined to influence his conduct, is not known; but it is certain that from this time, Lyon Berners became more and more blindly devoted to Rosa Blondelle.
With a smile of satisfaction, she tossed back her raven-black ringlets, and passed from the room and through the hall, and rapped at the door of her new acquaintance. Mrs. Blondelle herself opened it, and stood there quite ready to accompany her friend to breakfast.
She said to herself that all his devotion to Rosa Blondelle in the stage-coach was but the proper courtesy of a gentleman to a lady guest, who was, besides, a stranger in the country; and that she, his wife, ought to admire, rather than to blame him for it ought to be pleased, rather than pained by it.
It is proverbial that "listeners never hear any good of themselves." Sybil's case was no exception to this rule. This is what she heard of herself. "What ever could have ailed Mrs. Berners," inquired Mrs. Blondelle, with a pretty lisp. "What could have ailed Sybil? Why, nothing, that I noticed. What should have ailed her?" on his side inquired Mr. Berners.
So little did Rosa Blondelle really care for Lyon Berners, and so truly did she estimate the value of her very luxurious home at Black Hall, that had she known the state of Sybil's mind, she would very quickly have put an end to her flirtation with the husband, and done all that she could to recover the confidence of the wife, and then looked out among the attractive young men of the neighborhood for another party to that sentimental, meaningless love-making, which was yet a necessity to her shallow life.
And all this gorgeousness of coloring was reflected in the lake, whose waters seemed dyed with all the prismatic hues of the rainbow. "'Black Valley, indeed!" said Rosa Blondelle, with a smile, as she entered the breakfast-room and glanced through the windows upon the magnificent scene; "'Black Valley, call you this?
Unluckily I can not change my dress, for my luggage was left behind at Blackville, and I don't suppose it has arrived here yet," said Rosa Blondelle, as she returned to her room attended by her maid. But there an agreeable surprise met her. She found her trunks set in order, ready for her. "I declare, there they are!
Then she drew an ottoman to his side and sunk down upon it, and leaned her arms upon his knees, and lifted her beautiful dark face, now all aglow with the delight of benevolence, and told him all that had passed in the interview between herself and Mrs. Blondelle.
Blondelle! You see the lights of our home now." Rosa leaned across Sybil to look in the direction indicated, and she saw scattered lights that seemed to be set in the side of the mountain. She saw no house, and she said so.
Sybil went to her dressing-glass and began to arrange her somewhat disordered hair. While she stood there, she suddenly inquired: "Where did you leave Mrs. Blondelle?" "I did not leave her anywhere. She left me. She excused herself, and went to her room, I suppose." "Ah!" sighed Sybil. She did not like this answer.
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