It was the last week in July when Mrs. Ogilvie took possession of
Silverbel. She had ordered furniture in her usual reckless fashion,
going to the different shops where she knew she could obtain credit.
The house, already beautiful, looked quite lovely when decorated by
the skilful hands which arranged draperies and put furniture into the
most advantageous positions.
Sibyl's room, just over the front porch, was really worthy of her. It
was a bower of whiteness and innocence. It had lattice windows which
looked out on to the lovely grounds. Climbing roses peeped in through
the narrow panes, and sent their sweet fragrance to greet the child
when the windows were open and she put her head out.
Sibyl thought more than ever of her father as she took possession of
the lovely room at Silverbel. What a beautiful world it was! and what
a happy little girl she, Sibyl, thought herself in possessing such
perfect parents. Her prayers became now passionate thanks. She had got
so much that it seemed unkind to ask Lord Jesus for one thing more. Of
course, He was making the mine full of gold, and He was making her
father very, very rich, and everyone, everyone she knew was soon to be
happy.
Lady Helen Douglas came to stay at Silverbel, and this seemed to give
an added touch to the child's sense of enjoyment, for Lady Helen had
at last, in a shy half whisper, told the eager little listener that
she did love Mr. Rochester, and, further, that they were only waiting
to proclaim their engagement to the world until the happy time when
Sibyl's father came back.
"For Jim," continued Lady Helen, "will take shares in the Lombard
Deeps, and as soon as ever he does this we can afford to marry. But
you must not speak of this, Sibyl. I have only confided in you because
you have been our very good friend all along."
Sibyl longed to write off at once to her father to hurry up matters
with regard to the gold mine.
"Of course, it is full of gold, quite full," thought the child; "but I
hope father will write, or, better still, come home quickly and tell
us all about it."
She began to count the days now to her father's return, and was
altogether in such a happy mood that it was delightful to be in her
presence or to see her joyful face.
Sibyl was nearly beside herself with delight at having exchanged her
dull town life for this happy country one. She quickly made friends
with the poor people in the nearest village, who were all attracted by
her bright ways and pretty face. Her mother also gave her a small part
of the garden to do what she liked with, and when she was not digging
industriously, or riding her pony, or talking to Lady Helen, or
engaged in her lessons, she followed her mother about like a faithful
little dog.
Mrs. Ogilvie was so pleased and contented with her purchase that she
was wonderfully amiable. She often now sat in the long evenings with
Sibyl by her side, and listened without impatience to the child's
rhapsodies about her father. Mrs. Ogilvie would also be glad when
Philip returned. But just now her thought of all thoughts was centred
on the bazaar. This bazaar was to clinch her position as a country
lady. All the neighbors round were expected to attend, and already she
was busy drawing up programmes of the coming festivities, and
arranging with a great firm in London for the special marquee, which
was to grace her lawn right down to the river's edge.
The bazaar was expected to last for quite three days, and, during that
time, a spirited band would play, and there would be various
entertainments of all sorts and descriptions. Little boats, with
colored flags and awnings, were to be in requisition on the brink of
the river, and people should pay heavily for the privilege of
occupying these boats.
Mrs. Ogilvie clapped her hands almost childishly when this last
brilliant idea came to her, and Sibyl thought that it was worthy of
mother, and entered into the scheme with childish enthusiasm.
The third week in August was finally decided as the best week for the
bazaar, and those friends who were not going abroad promised to stay
at Silverbel for the occasion.
Some weeks after Mrs. Ogilvie had taken possession of Silverbel, Mr.
Acland called to see her.
"We have had no cable yet from your husband," he said, "and the rumors
continue to be ominous. I wish with all my heart we could silence
them. I, myself, believe in the Lombard Deeps, for Grayleigh is the
last man to lend his name or become chairman of a company which has
not brilliant prospects; but I can see that even he is a little
anxious."
"Oh, pray don't croak," was Mrs. Ogilvie's response and then she once
again likened Mr. Acland to the raven.
"You are a bird of ill-omen," she said, shaking her finger playfully
in his face.
He frowned as she addressed him; he could not see the witticism of her
remark.
"When people are perfectly happy and know nothing whatever with
regard to business, what is the good of coming and telling these
dismalities?" she continued. "I am nothing but a poor little feminine
creature, trying to do good, and to make myself happy in an innocent
way. Why will you come and croak? I know Philip quite well enough to
be certain that he would not have set foot on this expedition if he
had not been satisfied in advance that the mine was a good one."
"That is my own impression," said Mr. Acland, thoughtfully; "but don't
forget you are expected to complete the purchase of Silverbel by the
end of October."
"Oh! Philip will be back before then," answered Mrs. Ogilvie in a
light and cheerful tone. "Any day now we may get a cablegram. Well,
sweetheart, and what are you doing here?"
Sibyl had entered the room, and was leaning against the window frame.
"Any day we may expect what to happen, mother darling?" she asked.
"We may expect a cable from father to say he is coming back again."
"Oh! do you think so? Oh, I am so happy!"
Sibyl skipped lightly out of the room. She ran across the sunny,
radiant garden, and presently found herself in a sort of wilderness
which she had appropriated, and where she played at all sorts of
solitary games. In that wilderness she imagined herself at times a
lonely traveler, at other times a merchant carrying goodly pearls, at
other times a bandit engaged in feats of plunder. All possible scenes
in history or imagination that she understood did the child try to
enact in the wilderness. But she went there now with no intention of
posing in any imaginary part. She went there because her heart was
full.
"Oh, Lord Jesus, it is so beautiful of you," she said, and she looked
up as she spoke full at the blue sky. "I can scarcely believe that my
ownest father will very soon be back again; it is quite too
beautiful."
A few days after this, and toward the end of the first week in August,
Sibyl was one day playing as usual in the grounds when the sound of
carriage wheels attracted her attention. She ran down to see who was
arriving, and a shout of delight came from her when she saw Lord
Grayleigh coming down the drive. He called the coachman to stop and
put out his head.
"Jump into the carriage, Sib, I have not seen you for some time. When
are you going to pay me another visit at Grayleigh Manor?"
"Oh, some time, but not at present," replied Sibyl. "I am too happy
with mother here to think of going away. Isn't Silverbel sweet, Lord
Grayleigh?"
"Charming," replied Grayleigh. "Is your mother in, little woman?"
"I think so. She is very incited about the bazaar. Are you coming to
the bazaar?"
"I don't know, I will tell you presently."
Sibyl laid her little hand in Lord Grayleigh's. He gave it a squeeze,
and she clasped it confidingly.
"Do you know that I am so monstrous happy I scarcely know what to do,"
she said.
"Because you have got a pretty new place?"
"No, no, nothing of that sort. It's 'cos father is coming back afore
long! He will cable, whatever that means, and soon afterward he'll
come. I'm always thanking Lord Jesus about it. Isn't it good of Him to
send my ownest father back so soon?"
Lord Grayleigh made no answer, unless an uneasy movement of his feet
signified a sense of discomfort. The carriage drew up at the porch and
he alighted. Sibyl skipped out after him.
[Illustration: "Shall I find mother for you?" asked Sibyl, leading
Lord Grayleigh across the lawn.--Page 208. _Daddy's Girl_.]
"Shall I find mother for you?" she said. "Oh, there she is on the
lawn. Darlingest mother, she can think of nothing at present but the
bazaar, when all the big-wigs are to be present. You're a big-wig,
aren't you? I asked nurse what big-wigs were, and she said people with
handles. Mother said they were people in a _good social position_.
I remember the words so well 'cos I couldn't understand 'em, but when
I asked Miss Winstead to 'splain, she said mother meant ladies and
gentlemen, and when I asked her to tell me what ladies and gentlemen
was, she said people who behaved nicely. Now isn't it all very
puzzling, 'cos the person who I think behaves nicest of all is our
footman, Watson. He has lovely manners and splendid impulses; and
perhaps the next nicest is dear Mrs. Holman, and she keeps a toy-shop
in a back street. But when I asked mother if Watson and Mrs. Holman
were big-wigs, she said I spoked awful nonsense. What do you think,
Lord Grayleigh? Please do try to 'splain."
Lord Grayleigh had laughed during Sibyl's long speech. He now laid his
hand on her arm.
"A big-wig is quite an ugly word," he said, "but a lady or a
gentleman, you will find them in all ranks of life."
"You haven't 'splained a bit," said the little girl. "Mother wants
big-wigs at her bazaar; you are one, so will you come?"
"I will answer that question after I have seen your mother."
Lord Grayleigh crossed the lawn, and Sibyl, feeling dissatisfied,
turned away.
"He doesn't look quite happy," she thought; "I'm sorry he is coming
to take up mother's time. Mother promised, and it's most 'portant, to
ride with me this evening. It's on account of poor Dan Scott it is so
'portant. Oh, I do hope she won't forget. Perhaps Miss Winstead would
come if mother can't. I promised poor Dan a basket of apples, and also
that I'd go and sit with him, and mother said he should cert'nly have
the apples, and that she and I would ride over with them. He broke his
arm a week ago, poor fellow! poor little Dan! I'll go and find Miss
Winstead. If mother can't come, she must."
Sibyl ran off in search of her governess, and Lord Grayleigh and Mrs.
Ogilvie, in deep conversation, paced up and down the lawn.
"You didn't hear by the last mail?" was Lord Grayleigh's query.
"No, I have not heard for two mails. I cannot account for his
silence."
"He is probably up country," was Lord Grayleigh's answer. "I thought
before cabling that I would come and inquire of you."
"I have not heard," replied Mrs. Ogilvie. "Of course things are all
right, and Philip was never much of a correspondent. It probably
means, Lord Grayleigh, that he has completed his report, and is coming
back. I shall be glad, for I want him to be here some time before
October, in order to see about paying the rest of the money for our
new place. What do you think of Silverbel?"
"Oh, quite charming," said Lord Grayleigh, in that kind of tone which
clearly implied that he was not thinking about his answer.
"I am anxious, of course, to complete the purchase," continued Mrs.
Ogilvie.
"Indeed!" Lord Grayleigh raised his brows.
"Mr. Acland lent me two thousand pounds to pay the deposit," continued
the lady, "but we must complete by the end of October. When my husband
comes back rich, he will be able to do so. He will come back rich,
won't he?" Here she looked up appealingly at Lord Grayleigh.
"He will come back rich, or we shall have the deluge," he replied,
oracularly. "Don't be uneasy. As you have not heard I shall cable. I
shall wire to Brisbane, which I fancy is his headquarters."
"Perhaps," answered Mrs. Ogilvie, in an abstracted tone. "By the way,
if you are going back to town, may I make use of your carriage? There
are several things I want to order for my bazaar. It is to be in about
a fortnight now. You will remember that you are one of the patrons."
"Certainly," he answered; "at what date is the bazaar to be held?"
She named the arranged date, and he entered it in a gold-mounted
engagement book.
"I shall stay in town to-night," continued Mrs. Ogilvie. "Just wait
for me a moment, and I will get on my hat."
Soon afterward the two were driving back to the railway station. Mrs.
Ogilvie had forgotten all about her engagement to Sibyl. Sibyl saw her
go off with a feeling of deep disappointment, for Miss Winstead had a
headache, and declined to ride with the little girl. Dan Scott must
wait in vain for his apples. But should he wait? Sibyl wondered.
She went down in a discontented way to a distant part of the grounds.
She was not feeling at all happy now. It was all very well to have a
heart bubbling over with good-nature and kindly impulses; but when
those impulses were flung back on herself, then the little girl felt
that latent naughtiness which was certainly an integral part of her
character. She saw Dan Scott's old grandfather digging weeds in the
back garden. Dan Scott was one of the gardener's boys. He was a
bright, cheery-faced little fellow, with sloe-black eyes and
tight-curling hair, and a winsome smile and white teeth. Sibyl had
made friends with him at once, and when he ceased to appear on the
scenes a week back, she was full of consternation, for Dan had fallen
from a tree, and broken his arm rather badly. He had been feverish
also, and could not come to attend to his usual work. His old
grandfather had at first rated the lad for having got into this
trouble, but then he had pitied him.
Sibyl the day before had promised old Scott that she and her mother
would ride to Dan's cottage and present him with a basket of early
apples. There were some ripening now on the trees, long in shape,
golden in color, and full of delicious juice.
Sibyl had investigated these apples on her own account, and pronounced
them very good, and had thought that a basket of the fruit would
delight Dan. She had spoken to her mother on the subject, and her
mother, in the height of good-humor, had promised that the apples
should be gathered, and the little girl and she would ride down a
lovely country lane to Dan's cottage. They were to start about six
o'clock, would ride under the shade of some spreading beech trees, and
come back in the cool of the evening.
The whole plan was delightful, and Sibyl had been thinking about it
all day. Now her mother had gone off to town, and most clearly had
forgotten her promise to the child.
"Well, Missy," said old Scott as he dug his spade deep down into the
soil; "don't stand just there, Missy, you'll get the earth all over
you."
Sibyl moved to a respectful distance.
"How is Dan?" she asked, after a pause.
"A-wrastling with his pain," answered Scott, a frown coming between
his brows.
"Is he expecting me and mother with the beautiful apples?" asked
Sibyl, in a somewhat anxious tone.
"Is he expecting you, Missy?" answered the old man, raising his
beetling brows and fixing his black eyes on the child. "Is he
a-counting the hours? Do ducks swim, Missy, and do little sick boys
a-smothered up in bed in small close rooms want apples and little
ladies to visit 'em or not? You said you'd go, Missy, and Dan he's
counting the minutes."
"Of course I'll go," replied Sibyl, but she looked anxious and
_distrait_. Then she added, "I will go if I possibly can."
"I didn't know there was any doubt about it, Missy, and I tell you Dan
is counting the minutes. Last thing he said afore I went out this
morning was, 'I'll see little Missy to-day, and she is to bring me a
basket of apples.' Seems to me he thinks a sight more of you than the
fruit."
Sibyl turned pale as Scott continued to speak in an impressive voice.
"Dear, dear, it is quite dreadful," she said, "I could cry about it, I
could really, truly."
"But why, Missy? What's up? I don't like to see a little lady like you
a-fretting."
"Mr. Scott, I'm awfully, awfully sorry; I am terribly afraid I can't
go."
Old Scott ceased to delve the ground. He leant on the top of his spade
and looked full at the child. His sunken eyes seemed to burn into
hers.
"You promised you'd go," he said then slowly.
"I did, I certainly did, but mother was to have gone with me, and she
has had to go to town about the bazaar. I suppose you couldn't take
back the apples with you when you go home to-night, Mr. Scott?"
"I could not," answered the old man. He began to dig with lusty and,
in the child's opinion, almost venomous vigor.
"Besides," he added, "it wouldn't be the same. It's you he wants to
see as much as the fruit. If I was a little lady I'd keep my word to
the poor. It's a dangerous thing to break your word to the poor;
there's God's curse on them as do."
Sibyl seemed to shrink into herself. She looked up at the sky.
"Lord Jesus wouldn't curse a little girl like me, a little girl who
loves Him," she thought; but, all the same, the old man's words
seemed to chill her.
"I'll do my very best," she said, and she went slowly across the
garden. Old Scott called after her:
"I wouldn't disappoint the little lad if I was you, Missy. He's
a-counting of the minutes."
A clock in the stable yard struck five. Old Scott continued to watch
Sibyl as she walked away.
"I could take the apples," he said to himself; "I could if I had a
mind to, but I don't see why the quality shouldn't keep their word,
and I'm due to speak at the Mission Hall this evening. Little Miss
should know afore she makes promises. She's a rare fine little 'un,
though, for all that. I never see a straighter face, eyes that could
look through you. Dear little Missy! Dan thinks a precious sight of
her. I expect somehow she'll take him the apples."
So old Scott went on murmuring to himself, sometimes breaking off to
sing a song, and Sibyl returned to the house.