Let Mr. Ratcliffe, and his brother giants, wander on their own
political prairie, and hunt for offices, or other profitable game, as
they would.
Their objects were not her objects, and to join their company was
not her ambition. She was no longer very angry with Mr. Ratcliffe.
She had no wish to insult him, or to quarrel with him. What he had
done as a politician, he had done according to his own moral code,
and it was not her business to judge him; to protect herself was the
only right she claimed. She thought she could easily hold him at
arm's length, and although, if Carrington had written the truth, they
could never again be friends, there need be no difficulty in their
remaining acquaintances. If this view of her duty was narrow, it
was at least proof that she had learned something from Mr.
Ratcliffe; perhaps it was also proof that she had yet to learn Mr.
Ratcliffe himself.
Two o'clock had struck before Mrs. Lee came down from her
chamber, and Sybil had not yet made her appearance. Madeleine
rang her bell and gave orders that, if Mr. Ratcliffe called she
would see him, but she was at home to no one else. Then she sat
down to write letters and to prepare for her journey to New York,
for she must now hasten her departure in order to escape the gossip
and criticism which she saw hanging like an avalanche over her
head.
When Sybil at length came down, looking much fresher than her
sister, they passed an hour together arranging this and other small
matters, so that both of them were again in the best of spirits, and
Sybil's face was wreathed in smiles.
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