Sybil was in bounding spirits and not at all pleased to find that her companion became moody and abstracted as they went on.

"Poor Mr.Carrington!" thought she to herself, "he is so nice; but when he puts on that solemn air, one might as well go to sleep.

I am quite certain no nice woman will ever marry him if he looks like that;" and her practical mind ran off among all the girls of her acquaintance, in search of one who would put up with Carrington's melancholy face.

She knew his devotion to her sister, but had long ago rejected this as a hopeless chance.

There was a simplicity about Sybil's way of dealing with life, which had its own charm.