Daddy's Girl

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  A few days before the bazaar Lady Helen Douglas arrived at Silverbel.She had returned from Scotland on purpose. A letter from LordGrayleigh induced her to do so. He wrote to Lady Helen immediatelyafter seeing Sibyl.

  "I don't like the child's look," he wrote; "I have not the least ideawhat the doctors have said of her, but when I spoke on the subject toher mother, she shirked it. There is not the least doubt that Mrs.Ogilvie can never see a quarter of an inch beyond her own selfishfancies. It strikes me very forcibly that the child is in a precariousstate. I can never forgive myself, for she met with the accident onthe pony I gave her. She likes you; go to her if you can."

  It so happened that by the very same post there had come an urgentappeal from Mrs. Ogilvie.

  "If you cannot come to the bazaar," she wrote to Lady Helen, "it willbe a failure. Come you must. Your presence is essential, because youare pretty and well born, and you will also act as a lure to anotherperson who can help me in various ways. I, of course, allude to ourmutual friend, Jim Rochester."

  Now Lady Helen, even with the attraction of seeing Mr. Rochester sosoon again, would not have put off a series of visits which she wasabout to make, had not Lord Grayleigh's letter decided her. Shetherefore arrived at Silverbel on the 22d of September, and wasquickly conducted to Sibyl's room. She had not seen Sibyl for a coupleof months. When last they had met, the child had been radiant withhealth and spirits. She was radiant still, but that quick impulsivelife had been toned down to utter quiet. The lower part of the littlebody was paralyzed, the paralysis was creeping gradually up and up. Itwas but a question of time for the loving little heart to be still forever.

  Sibyl cried with delight when she saw Lady Helen.

  "Such a lot of big-wigs are coming to-morrow," she said, "but LordGrayleigh does not come until the day of the bazaar, so you are quitethe first. You'll come and see me very, very often, won't you?"

  "Of course I will, Sibyl. The fact is I have come on purpose to seeyou. I should not have come to the bazaar but for you. Lord Grayleighwrote to me and said you were not well, and he thought you loved me,little Sib, and that it would cheer you up to see me."

  "Oh, you are sweet," answered the child, "and I do, indeed I do loveyou. But you ought to have come for the bazaar as well as for me. Itis darling mother's splendid work of charity. She wants to help a lotof little sick children and sick grown up people: isn't it dear ofher?"

  "Well, I am interested in the bazaar," said Lady Helen, ignoring thesubject of Mrs. Ogilvie's noble action.

  "It is so inciting all about it," continued the little girl, "and Ican see the marquee quite splendidly from here, and mother flittingabout. Isn't mother pretty, isn't she quite sweet? She is going tohave the most lovely dress for the bazaar, a sort of silvery white;she will look like an angel--but then she is an angel, isn't she, LadyHelen?"

  Lady Helen bent and kissed Sibyl on her soft forehead. "You must nottalk too much and tire yourself," she said; "let me talk to you. Ihave plenty of nice things to say."

  "Stories?" said Sibyl.

  "Yes, I will tell you stories."

  "Thank you; I do love 'em. Did you ever tell them to Mr. Rochester?"

  "I have not seen him lately."

  "You'll be married to him soon, I know you will."

  "We need not talk about that now, need we? I want to do something toamuse you."

  "It's odd how weak my voice has grown," said Sibyl, with a laugh."Mother says I am getting better, and perhaps I am, only somehow I dofeel weak. Do you know, mother wanted me to dress dolls for her, but Icouldn't. Nursie did 'em. There's one big beautiful doll with wings;Nurse made the wings, but she can't put them on right; will you putthem on proper, Lady Helen?"

  "I should like to," replied Lady Helen; "I have a natural aptitude fordressing dolls."

  "The big doll with the wings is in that box over there. Take it outand sit down by the sofa so that I can see you, and put the wings onproperly. There's plenty of white gauze and wire. I want you to makethe doll as like an angel as you can."

  Lady Helen commenced her pretty work. Sibyl watched her, not caring totalk much now, for Lady Helen seemed too busy to answer.

  "It rests me to have you in the room," said the child, "you are likethis room. Do you know Miss Winstead has given it such a funny name."

  "What is that, Sibyl?"

  "She calls it the Chamber of Peace--isn't it sweet of her?"

  "The name is a beautiful one, and so is the room," answered LadyHelen.

  "I do wish Mr. Rochester was here," was Sibyl's next remark.

  "He will come to the bazaar, dear."

  "And then, perhaps, I'll see him. I want to see him soon, I havesomething I'd like to say."

  "What, darling?"

  "Something to you and to him. I want you both to be happy. I'mtremendous anxious that you should both be happy, and I think--Iwouldn't like to say it to mother, for perhaps it will hurt her, but Ido fancy that, perhaps, I'm going to have wings, too, not likedolly's, but real ones, and if I have them I might----"

  "What, darling?"

  "Fly away to my beautiful Lord Jesus. You don't know how I want to beclose to Him. I used to think that if I got into father's heart Ishould be quite satisfied, but even that, even that is not like beingin the heart of Jesus. If my wings come I must go, Lady Helen. It willbe lovely to fly up, won't it, for perhaps some day I might get tiredof lying always flat on my back. Mother doesn't know, darling motherdoesn't guess, and I wouldn't tell her for all the wide world, for shethinks I'm going to get quite well again, but one night, when shethought I was asleep, I heard Nursie say to Miss Winstead, 'Poorlamb, she'll soon want to run about again, but she never can, never.'I shouldn't like to be always lying down flat, should you, LadyHelen?"

  "No, darling, I don't think I should."

  "Well, there it is, you see, you wouldn't like it either. Of course Iwant to see father again, but whatever happens he'll understand. Onlyif my wings come I must fly off, and I want everyone to be happybefore I go."

  Lady Helen had great difficulty in keeping back her tears, for Sibylspoke in a perfectly calm, contented, almost matter-of-fact voicewhich brought intense conviction with it.

  "So you must marry Mr. Rochester," she continued, "for you both loveeach other so very much."

  "That is quite true," replied Lady Helen.

  Sibyl looked at her with dilated, smiling eyes. "The Lombard DeepsMine is full to the brim with gold," she said, in an excited voice. "Iknow--Lord Grayleigh told me. He has it all wrote down in hispocket-book, and you and Mr. Rochester are to have your share. Whenyou are both very, very happy you'll think of me, won't you?"

  "I can never forget you, my dear little girl. Kiss me, now--see! theangel doll is finished."

  "Oh, isn't it lovely?" said the child, her attention immediatelydistracted by this new interest. "Do take it down to mother. She'sdressing the stall where the dolls are to be sold; ask her to put theangel doll at the head of all the other dolls. Take it to mother now.I can watch from my window--do go at once."

  Lady Helen was glad of an excuse to leave the room. When she got intothe corridor outside she stopped for a moment, put her handkerchief toher eyes, made a struggle to subdue her emotion, and then randownstairs.

  The great marquee was already erected on the lawn, and many of thestall-holders were arranging their stalls and giving directions todifferent workmen. Mrs. Ogilvie was flitting eagerly about. She was inthe highest spirits, and looked young and charming.

  "Sibyl sent you this," said Lady Helen.

  Mrs. Ogilvie glanced for a moment at the angel doll.

  "Oh, lay it down anywhere, please," she said in a negative tone. ButLady Helen thought of the sweet blue eyes looking down on this scenefrom the Chamber of Peace. She was not going to put the angel dolldown anywhere.

  "Please, Mrs. Ogilvie," she said, "you must take an interest in it."There was something in her tone which arrested even Mrs. Ogilvie'sattention.
br />   "You must take a great interest in this doll," she continued. "LittleSibyl thinks so much of it. Forgive me, Mrs. Ogilvie, I----"

  "Oh, what is it now," said Mrs. Ogilvie, "what can be the matter?Really everyone who goes near Sibyl acts in the most extraordinaryway." She looked petulantly, as she spoke, into Lady Helen's agitatedface.

  "I cannot help thinking much of Sibyl," continued Lady Helen, "and Iam very--more than anxious about her. I am terribly grieved, for--Ithink----"

  "You think what? Oh, please don't begin to be gloomy now. You haveonly seen Sibyl for the first time since her accident. She is verymuch better than she was at first. You cannot expect her to look quitewell all of a sudden."

  "But have you had the very best advice for her?"

  "I should rather think so. We had Sir Henry Powell down twice.Everything has been done that could be done. It is merely a questionof time and rest. Time and rest will effect a perfect cure; at least,that is my opinion."

  "But what is Sir Henry Powell's opinion?"

  "Don't ask me. I don't believe in doctors. The child is gettingbetter, I see it with my own eyes. It is merely a question of time."

  "Sibyl is getting well, but not in the way you think," replied LadyHelen. She said the words with significance, and Mrs. Ogilvie felt herheart throb for a moment with a sudden wild pain, but the next instantshe laughed.

  "I never knew anyone so gloomy," she said, "and you come to me withyour queer remarks just when I am distracted about the great bazaar. Iam almost sorry I asked you here, Lady Helen."

  "Well, at least take the doll--the child is looking at you," said LadyHelen. "Kiss your hand to her; look pleased even if you are notinterested, and give me a promise, that I may take to her, that theangel doll shall stand at the head of the doll stall. The child wishesit; do not deny her wishes now."

  "Oh, take her any message you like, only leave me, please, for thepresent. Ah, there she is, little darling." Mrs. Ogilvie took theangel doll in her hand, and blew a couple of kisses to Sibyl. Sibylsmiled down at her from the Chamber of Peace. Very soon afterward LadyHelen returned to her little friend.

  It was on the first day of the bazaar when all the big-wigs hadarrived, when the fun was at its height, when the bands were playingmerrily, and the little pleasure skiffs were floating up and down theshining waters of the Thames, when flocks of visitors from all theneighborhood round were crowding in and out of the marquee, and peoplewere talking and laughing merrily, and Mrs. Ogilvie in her silverywhite dress was looking more beautiful than she had ever looked beforein her life, that a tired, old-looking man appeared on the scene.

  Mrs. Ogilvie half expected that her husband would come back on the dayof the bazaar, for if the _Sahara_ kept to her dates she would makeher appearance in the Tilbury Docks in the early morning of that day.Mrs. Ogilvie hoped that her husband would get off, and take a quicktrain to Richmond, and arrive in time for her to have a nice straighttalk with him, and explain to him about Sibyl's accident, and tell himwhat was expected of him. She was anxious to see him before anyoneelse did, for those who went in and out of the child's room were soblind, so persistent in their fears with regard to the little girl'sultimate recovery; if Mrs. Ogilvie could only get Philip to herself,she would assure him that the instincts of motherhood never reallyfailed, that her own instincts assured her that the great doctors werewrong, and she herself was right. The child was slowly but graduallyreturning to the paths of health and strength.

  If only Ogilvie came back in good time his wife would explain thesematters to him, and tell him not to make a fool of himself about thechild, and beg of him to help her in this great, this auspiciousoccasion of her life.

  "He will look very nice when he is dressed in his, best," she said toherself. "It will complete my success in the county if I have himstanding by my side at the door of the marquee to receive ourdistinguished guests."

  As this thought came her eyes sparkled, and she got her maid to dressher in the most becoming way, and she further reflected that when theyhad a moment to be alone the husband and wife could talk of thewonderful golden treasures which Ogilvie was bringing back with himfrom the other side of the world. Perhaps he had thought much of her,his dear Mildred, while he had been away.

  "Men of that sort often think much more of their wives when they areparted from them," she remembered. "I have read stories to thateffect. I dare say Philip is as much in love with me as he ever was.He used to be devoted to me when first we were married. There wasnothing good enough for me then. Perhaps he has brought me back somejewels of greater value than I possess; I will gladly wear them forhis sake."

  But notwithstanding all her dreams and thoughts of her husband,Ogilvie did not come back to his loving wife in the early hours of thefirst day of the bazaar. Neither was there any message or telegramfrom him. In spite of herself, Mrs. Ogilvie now grew a little fretful.

  "As he has not come in time to receive our guests, if I knew where totelegraph, I would wire to him not to come now until the evening," shethought. But she did not know where to telegraph, and the numerousduties of the bazaar occupied each moment of her time.

  According to his promise Lord Grayleigh was present, and there wereother titled people walking about the grounds, and Lady Helen as astall-holder was invaluable.

  Sibyl had asked to have her white couch drawn nearer than ever to thewindow, and from time to time she peeped out and saw the guestsflitting about the lawns and thought of her mother's great happinessand wonderful goodness. The band played ravishing music, mostly dancemusic, and the day, although it was late in the season, was such aperfect one that the feet of the buyers and sellers alike almost kepttime to the festive strains.

  It was on this scene that Ogilvie appeared. During his voyage home hehad gone through almost every imaginable torture, and, as he reachedSilverbel, he felt that the limit of his patience was almost reached.He knew, because she had sent him a cable to that effect, that hiswife was staying in a country place, a place on the banks of theThames. She had told him further that the nearest station to Silverbelwas Richmond. Accordingly he had gone to Richmond, jumped into thefirst cab he could find, and desired the man to drive to Silverbel.

  "You know the place, I presume?" he said.

  "Silverbel, sir, certainly sir; it is there they are having the bigbazaar."

  As the man spoke he looked askance for a moment at the occupant of hiscab, for Ogilvie was travel-stained and dusty. He looked like one in aterrible hurry. There was an expression in his gray eyes which thedriver did not care to meet.

  "Go as fast as you can," he said briefly, and then the man whipped uphis horse and proceeded over the dusty roads.

  "A rum visitor," he thought; "wonder what he's coming for. Don't lookthe sort that that fine young lady would put up with on a day likethis."

  Ogilvie within the cab, however, saw nothing. He was only conscious ofthe fact that he was drawing nearer and nearer to the house where hislittle daughter--but did his little daughter still live? Was Sibylalive? That was the thought of all thoughts, the desire of alldesires, which must soon be answered yea or nay.

  When the tired-out and stricken man heard the strains of the band, hedid rouse himself, however, and began dimly to wonder if, after all,he had come to the wrong house. Were there two houses calledSilverbel, and had the man taken him to the wrong one? He pulled upthe cab to inquire.

  "No, sir," replied the driver, "it's all right. There ain't but oneplace named Silverbel here, and this is the place, sir. The lady isgiving a big bazaar and her name is Mrs. Ogilvie."

  "Then Sibyl must have got well again," thought Ogilvie to himself. Andjust for an instant the heavy weight at his breast seemed to lift. Hepaid his fare, told the man to take his luggage round to the backentrance, and jumped out of the cab.

  The man obeyed him, and Ogilvie, just as he was, stepped across thelawn. He had the air of one who was neither a visitor nor yet astranger. He walked with quick, short strides straight before him andpresently he came
full upon his wife in her silvery dress. A largewhite hat trimmed with pink roses reposed on her head. There werenature's own pink roses on her cheeks and smiles in her eyes.

  "Oh, Phil!" she cried, with a little start. She was quite cleverenough to hide her secret dismay at his arriving thus, and at such amoment. She dropped some things she was carrying and ran toward himwith her pretty hands outstretched.

  "Why, Phil!" she said again. "Oh, you naughty man, so you have comeback. But why didn't you send me a telegram?"

  "I had not time, Mildred; I thought my own presence was best. How isthe child?"

  "Oh, much the same--I mean she is going on quite, _quite_ nicely."

  "And what is this?"

  Ogilvie motioned with his hand as he spoke in the direction of thecrowd of people, the marquee, and the band. The music of the bandseemed to get on his brain and hurt him.

  "What is all this?" he repeated.

  "My dear Phil, my dear unpractical husband, this is a bazaar! Have younever heard of a bazaar before? A bazaar for the Cottage Hospital atWatleigh, the Home for Incurables; such a useful charity, Phil, and somuch needed. The poor things are wanting funds dreadfully; they havegot into debt, and something must be done to relieve them Think of allthe dear little children in those wards, Phil; the Sisters have beenobliged to refuse several cases lately. It is most pathetic, isn't it?Oh, by the way, Lord Grayleigh is here; you will be glad to see him?"

  "Presently, not now. How did you say Sibyl was?"

  "I told you a moment ago. You can go and see her when you have changedyour things. I wish you would go away at once to your room and getinto some other clothes. There are no end of people you ought to meet.How strange you look, Phil."

  "I want to know more of Sibyl." Here the husband caught the wife'sdainty wrist and drew her a little aside. "No matter about otherthings at present," he said sternly. "How is Sibyl? Remember, I haveheard no particulars; I have heard nothing since I got your cable. Howis she? Is there much the matter?"

  "Well, I really don't think there is, but perhaps Lady Helen will tellyou. Shall I send her to you? I really am so busy just now. You know Iam selling, myself, at the principal stall. Oh, do go into the house,you naughty dear; do go to your own room and change your things! Iexpected you early this morning, and Watson has put out some of yourwardrobe. Watson will attend on you if you will ring for him. You willfind there is a special dressing room for you on the first floor. Go,dear, do."

  But Ogilvie now hold both her hands. His own were not too clean; theywere soiled by the dust of his rapid journey. He gripped her wriststightly.

  "_Where_ is the child?" he repeated again.

  "Don't look at me like that, you quite frighten me. The child, she isin her room; she is going on nicely."

  "But is she injured? Can she walk?"

  "What could you expect? She cannot walk yet, but she is getting bettergradually--at least, I think so."

  "What you think is nothing, less than nothing. What do the doctorssay?"

  As Ogilvie was speaking he drew his wife gradually but surely awayfrom the fashionably dressed people and the big-wigs who were toopolite to stare, but who were all the time devoured with curiosity. Itbegan to be whispered in the crowd that Ogilvie had returned, and thathis wife and he were looking at certain matters from different pointsof view. There were several men and women present, who, although theyencouraged Mrs. Ogilvie to have the bazaar, nevertheless thought her aheartless woman, and these people now were rather rejoicing inOgilvie's attitude. He did not look like a person who could be trifledwith. He drew his wife toward the shrubbery.

  "I will see the child in a minute," he said; "nothing else matters.She is ill, unable to walk, lying down. I want to hear fullparticulars. If you will not tell them to me, I will send for thedoctor. The question I wish answered is this, _what do the doctorssay_?"

  Tears filled Mrs. Ogilvie's pretty, dark eyes.

  "Really, Phil, you are too cruel. After these weeks of anxiety, whichonly a mother can understand, you speak to me in that tone, just as ifthe dear little creature were nothing to me at all."

  "You can cry, Mildred, as much as you please, and you can talk all thesentimental stuff that best appeals to you, but answer my questionnow. What do the doctors say, and what doctors has she seen?"

  "The local doctor here, our own special doctor in town, and the greatspecialist, Sir Henry Powell."

  "Good God, that man!" said Ogilvie, starting back. "Then she must havebeen badly hurt?"

  "She was badly hurt."

  "Well, what did the doctors say? Give me their verdict. I insist uponknowing."

  "They--they--of course, they are wrong, Phil. You are hurting me; Iwish you would not hold my hands so tightly."

  "Speak!" was his only response.

  "They said at the time--of course they were mistaken, doctors oftenare. You cannot imagine how many diagnoses of theirs have been provedto be wrong. Yes, I learned that queer word; I did not understand itat first. Now I know all about it."

  "Speak!" This one expression came from Ogilvie's lips almost with ahiss.

  "Well, they said at the time that--oh, Phil, you kill me when you lookat me like that! They said the case was----"

  "Hopeless?" asked the man between his white lips.

  "They certainly _said_ it. But, Phil; oh, Phil, dear, they are wrong!"

  He let her hands go with a sudden jerk. She almost fell.

  "You knew it, and you could have that going on?" he said. "Go back toyour bazaar."

  "I certainly will. I think you are terribly unkind."

  "You can have those people here, and that band playing, when you know_that_? Well, if such scenes give you pleasure at such a time, go andenjoy them."

  He strode into the house. She looked after his retreating figure; thenshe took out her daintily laced handkerchief, applied it to her eyes,and went back to her duties.

  "I am a martyr in a good cause," she said to herself; "but it isbitterly hard when one's husband does not understand one."