Mrs. Carnaby had no engagement; she was quite at leisure, and, as usual nowadays, spent her leisure in thought.  She did not read much, and not at all in the solid books which were to be seen lying about her rooms; but Lady Isobel Barker, and a few other people, admired her devotion to study.  Certainly one or two lines had begun to reveal themselves on Sibyl’s forehead, which might possibly have come of late reading and memory overstrained; they might also be the record of other experiences.  Her beauty was more than ever of the austere type; in regarding her, one could have murmured —­

Chaste a’ the icicle
That’s curded by the frost from purest snow,
And hangs on Dian’s temple.

But in privacy Sibyl did not look her best.  Assuredly not after the withdrawal of Mrs. Strangeways, when her lips, sneering away their fine contour, grew to an ugly hardness, and her eyes smalled themselves in a vicious intensity of mental vision.

CHAPTER 11

Major Carnaby, Hugh’s brother, was now in England.  A stranger to the society in which Mrs. Carnaby had lived, he knew nothing of the gossip at one time threatening her with banishment from polite circles.  An honest man, and taking for granted the honesty of his kinsfolk, he put entire faith in Hugh’s story, despatched to him by letter a few days after the calamitous event at Wimbledon.  On arriving in London, the good Major was pleased, touched, flattered by the very warm welcome with which his sister-in-law received him.  Hitherto they had seen hardly anything of each other; but since the disaster their correspondence had been frequent, and Sibyl’s letters were so brave, yet so pathetic, that Major Carnaby formed the highest opinion of her.  She did not pose as an injured woman; she never so much as hinted at the activity of slanderous tongues; she spoke only of Hugh, the dear, kind, noble fellow, whom fate had so cruelly visited The favourable impression was confirmed as soon as they met.  The Major found that this beautiful, high-hearted creature had, among her many virtues, a sound capacity for business; no one could have looked after her husband’s worldly interests with more assiduity and circumspection.  He saw that Hugh had been quite right in assuring him (at Sibyl’s instance) that there was no need whatever for him to neglect his military duties and come home at an inconvenient time.  Hugh’s affairs were in perfect order; all he would have to think about was the recovery of health and mental tranquillity.

To this end, they must decide upon some retreat in which he might pass a quiet month or two.  That dear and invaluable friend, to whom Sibyl owed ‘more than she could tell’ (much more than she could tell to Major Carnaby), was ready with a delightful suggestion.  Lady Isobel (that is to say, her auriferous husband, plain Mr. Barker) had a little house in the north, cosy amid moor and mountain, and