Morley was of
opinion that he was a spy; Gerard, less suspicious, ultimately
concluded that he was harassed by his creditors, and when at
Mowedale was probably hiding from them.
And now the mystery was at length dissolved. And what an
explanation! A Norman, a noble, an oppressor of the people, a
plunderer of the church--all the characters and capacities
that Sybil had been bred up to look upon with fear and
aversion, and to recognise as the authors of the degradation
of her race.
Sybil sighed: the door opened and Egremont stood before her.
The blood rose to her cheek, her heart trembled; for the first
time in his presence she felt embarrassed and constrained.
His countenance on the contrary was collected; serious and
pale.
"I am an intruder," he said advancing, "but I wish much to
speak to you," and he seated himself near her. There was a
momentary pause. "You seemed to treat with scorn yesterday,"
resumed Egremont in accents less sustained, "the belief that
sympathy was independent of the mere accidents of position.
Pardon me, Sybil, but even you may be prejudiced." He paused.
"I should be sorry to treat anything you said with scorn,"
replied Sybil in a subdued tone.
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