"
"I will ask," said Sybil. "But first, I have a companion
without," she added, "who bears a basket for you. Come in,
Harold."
The baby began to cry the moment a large dog entered the room;
a young bloodhound of the ancient breed, such as are now found
but in a few old halls and granges in the north of England.
Sybil untied the basket, and gave a piece of sugar to the
screaming infant. Her glance was sweeter even than her
remedy; the infant stared at her with his large blue eyes; for
an instant astonished, and then he smiled.
"Oh! beautiful child!" exclaimed Sybil; and she took the babe
up from the mattress and embraced it.
"You are an angel from heaven," exclaimed the mother, "and you
may well say beautiful. And only to think of that infamous
girl, Harriet, to desert us all in this way."
Sybil drew forth the contents of the convent basket, and
called Warner's attention to them. "Now," she said, "arrange
all this as I tell you, and I will go down stairs and speak to
them below as you wish, Harold rest there;" and the dog laid
himself down in the remotest corner.
"And is that Gerard's daughter?" said the weaver's wife.
"Only think what it is to gain two pounds a-week, and bring up
your daughters in that way--instead of such shameless husseys
as our Harriet! But with such wages one can do anything.
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