Indeed, during this residence in
London, the opportunity it afforded of making her acquainted
with some of the great masters of the human voice was perhaps
to Sybil a source of pleasure not the least important. For
though it was not deemed consistent with the future discipline
which she contemplated to enter a theatre, there were yet
occasions which permitted her, under every advantage, to
listen to the performance of the master-pieces of sacred
melody. Alone, with Hatton and her father, she often poured
forth those tones of celestial sweetness and etherial power
that had melted the soul of Egremont amid the ruins of Marney
Abbey.
More intimately acquainted with Sybil Gerard, Hatton had
shrunk from the project that he had at first so crudely
formed. There was something about her that awed, while it
fascinated him. He did not relinquish his purpose, for it was
a rule of his life never to do that; but he postponed the
plans of its fulfilment. Hatton was not, what is commonly
understood by the phrase, in love with Sybil: certainly not
passionately in love with her. With all his daring and
talents and fine taste, there was in Hatton such a vein of
thorough good sense, that it was impossible for him to act or
even to think anything that was ridiculous.
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