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Updated: June 24, 2025
Clearer and louder grew Aunt Sibylla's tones; her eyes lightened with terrible meaning; her words flowed with an unction that was unmistakable; and, at length, "Oh, run for the Ark, ye poor, lost sinners," she exclaimed. "Oh, run for the Ark, my onconvarted friends! Don't ye hear the waves a comin' in? They're a rollin' swift and sure! They're a rollin' in sure as death! Run for the Ark!
Sibylla lay panting. Lucy remained as she was; Lionel also. Presently she, Sibylla, glanced at Lucy. "I wish you'd kiss me." Lucy, unnerved by the words, bent closer to her, a shower of tears falling from her eyes on Sibylla's face. "If I could but save her life for you!" she murmured to Lionel, glancing up at him through her tears as she rose from the embrace.
He was full of commiseration for the two young people, both having taken a strong hold upon his warm and kindly heart, and he scarcely knew which to pity most whether Sibylla, cruelly and perhaps permanently cut off from all intercourse with her own sex and constantly in association with a band of lawless men; or Ned, likewise a prisoner, with all his life's prospects blighted, and in addition to this the never-ceasing care, anxiety, and watchfulness which he must endure on Sibylla's account.
As for poor Ned, on releasing Sibylla's hand he turned and staggered out of the cabin, looking like a man who had been suddenly struck a numbing blow, and feeling as he might have felt had the saloon been a felon's dock in which he had just received his death-sentence.
"She is not tanned a bit with her voyage, that I see," cried Deborah, with undisguised admiration. "But Sibylla's skin never did tan. Child," she added, bending towards her, and allowing her voice to become grave, "how could you think of coming to Verner's Pride? It was not right. You should have come home." "I thought Mrs. Verner was living still." "And if she had been? This is Mr.
Needless to say that in presence of these superb and incomparable gems Sibylla's admiration of the embroidered muslins dwindled away to insignificance, and her minute examination of the pearls plunged her into a perfect trance of delight.
That there was very little limit to his wife's extravagance, he had begun to know. In spite of Sibylla's extensive purchases made in Paris at the time of their marriage, she had contrived by the end of the following winter to run up a tolerable bill at her London milliner's. When they had gone to town in the early spring, this bill was presented to Lionel. Four hundred and odd pounds.
What did he think of his work when the news came of Frederick's death? What did he think of it when John Massingbird returned in person? What did he think of it when he read Sibylla's dying message, written to him by Amilly "Tell papa it is the leaving Verner's Pride that has killed me?" "I shall take possession of this," said Jan Verner.
You forget that you are speaking of my wife. She is my wife," he more calmly added, "until she shall have been proved not to be." No. Whatever may have been Sibylla's conduct to him personally, neither before her face nor behind her back, would Lionel forget one jot of the respect due to her. Or suffer another to forget it; although that other should be his mother.
She wore a low dress, and the gold chain on her neck rose and fell with every breath. Lucy's neck was uncovered, too: a fair, pretty neck; one that did not give you the shudders when looked at as poor Sibylla's did.
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