Daddy's Girl

  CHAPTER VII.

  The following letter reached Philip Ogilvie late that same evening:--

  MY DEAR OGILVIE,

  Your decision is naturally all that can be desired, and I only hope you may never live to regret it. I have, most unfortunately, given my ankle a bad sprain. I had a fall yesterday when out riding, and am obliged to lie up for a day or two. There is much that I should wish to talk over with you before you go to Queensland. Can you come down here to-morrow by the first train? I will not detain you an hour longer than I can help. All other arrangements are in the hands of my agents, Messrs. Spielmann & Co.

  Yours sincerely, GRAYLEIGH.

  Ogilvie read this letter quickly. He knit his brow as he did so. Itannoyed him a good deal.

  "I did not want to go there," he thought. "I am doing this principallyfor the sake of the child. I can arrange all financial matters throughSpielmann. Grayleigh wants this thing done; I alone can do it to hissatisfaction and to the satisfaction of the public. He must payme--what he pays will be Sibyl's, the provision for her future. But Idon't want to see the child--until all this dirty work is over. If Icome back things may be altered. God only knows what may haveoccurred. The mine may be all right, there may be deliverance, but Ididn't want to see her before I go. It is possible that I may not beable to keep my composure. There are a hundred things which make aninterview between the child and me undesirable."

  He thought and thought, and at last rose from his chair and began topace the room. He had not suffered from his heart since his interviewwith Dr. Rashleigh. He gave it but scant consideration now.

  "If I have a fatal disease it behooves me to act as if I wereabsolutely sound," he said to himself. And he had so acted after thefirst shock of Rashleigh's verdict had passed off. But he did not likethe thought of seeing Sibyl. Still, Grayleigh's letter could not belightly disregarded. If Grayleigh wished to see him and could not cometo town, it was essential that he should go to him.

  He rang his bell and sent off a telegram to the effect that he wouldarrive at Grayleigh Manor at an early hour on the following day.

  This telegram Lord Grayleigh showed to Mrs. Ogilvie before she went tobed that night.

  "He has consented to go, as of course you are well aware," said LordGrayleigh, "and he comes here to see me to-morrow. But I would not sayanything about his departure for Queensland to your little daughter,until after his visit. He may have something to say in the matter. Lethim, if he wishes it, be the one to break it to her."

  "But why should not the child know? How ridiculous you are!"

  "That is exactly as her father pleases," replied Lord Grayleigh. "Ihave a kind of intuition that he may want to tell her himself. Anyhow,I trust you will oblige me in the matter."

  Mrs. Ogilvie pouted. She was not enjoying herself as much at GrayleighManor as she had expected, and, somehow or other, she felt that shewas in disgrace. This was by no means an agreeable sensation. Shewondered why she was not in higher spirits. To visit Australianowadays was a mere nothing. Her husband would be back again, a richman, in six months at the farthest. During those six months sheherself might have a good time. There were several country houseswhere she might visit. Her visiting list was already nearly full. Shewould take Sibyl with her, although Sibyl sometimes was the reverseof comforting; but it looked effective to see the handsome mother andthe beautiful child together, and Sibyl, when she did not go too far,said very pathetic and pretty things about her. Oh yes, she and herlittle daughter would have a good time, while the husband and fatherwas earning money for them in Australia: while the husband and fatherwas raking in gold, they might really enjoy themselves.

  As she thought of this, Mrs. Ogilvie felt so light-hearted that shecould have skipped. Those debts which had weighed so on what she waspleased to call her conscience, would be liquidated once and for all,and in the future she would have plenty of money. It was the be-all ofexistence to her feeble soul. She would have it in abundance in thetime which lay before her.

  "Philip is a wise man. It was very silly of him to hesitate and make afuss," she thought; "but he has decided wisely, as I knew he would. Ishall give him a kiss when I see him, and tell him that I am quitepleased with him."

  She went to bed, therefore, cheerful, and the next morning put on hervery prettiest dress in order to meet her husband.

  Ogilvie walked from the little station, which was only half a mileaway. Mrs. Ogilvie, going slowly up the avenue, saw him coming tomeet her. She stood under the shade of a great overhanging beech tree,and waited until he appeared.

  "Well, Mildred, and how are you?" said her husband. He took her hand,and, bending forward, brushed the lightest of kisses against hercheek.

  "Quite well," she replied. "Is not the day pleasant? I am so gladabout everything, Phil. But you don't look quite the thing yourself.Have you taken cold or suffered from one of those nasty rheumaticattacks?"

  "I am all right," he answered shortly. "I have a very few moments tobe here, as I want to catch the 12.30 back. Do you know if LordGrayleigh is anywhere to be found?"

  "I saw him half an hour ago. I think you will find him in thesmoking-room. He is expecting you."

  "And"--Ogilvie glanced to right and left--"the child?"

  "She is with the other children. Shall I send her to you?"

  "Not yet."

  "It is so nice of you to go, Phil; it will do you no end of good. Youwill enjoy your voyage," continued Mrs. Ogilvie, turning now andlaying her hand on her husband's arm.

  Mr. Rochester, who was quite a young man himself, and was deeplyoccupied at this time with thoughts of love and marriage, happened tosee the pair as they sauntered by together. He knew nothing, ofcourse, of Ogilvie's intended visit to Australia, nor was he in anysense of the word behind the scenes. On the contrary, he thought thatMrs. Ogilvie and her husband made a perfect picture of beautiful lovebetween husband and wife.

  "It is good of you," pursued Mrs. Ogilvie, turning once more to herhusband. "I am greatly obliged. I am more than obliged, I am relievedand--and satisfied. We shall have a happy life together when you comeback. There are, of course, little matters we ought to talk overbefore we go."

  "Debts, you mean," said Ogilvie, bluntly. "I opened your bills in yourabsence. They will be----"

  "Oh, Phil!" Mrs. Ogilvie's face turned very white.

  "I will speak about them before I leave," he continued. "Now I mustfind Grayleigh."

  "Is it true that you are going on Saturday?"

  "Quite true."

  "Had I not better return to town with you? There will be severalthings to put in order."

  "I can write to you, Mildred. Now that you are here you had betterstay here. The change will be good for you. You need not return tothe house in town before next week."

  "If you really don't want me, I am certainly enjoying myself here."

  "I don't want you," he replied, but as he spoke his grey eyes lookedwistful. He turned for an instant and glanced at her. He noted thesunny, lovely hair, the agile, youthful, rounded figure. Once he hadloved her passionately.

  "Sibyl will be delighted to see you," continued Mrs. Ogilvie. "She hasbeen, on the whole, behaving very nicely. Of course, making bothfriends and foes, as is her usual impetuous way."

  "That reminds me," said Ogilvie. "I shall see Sibyl before I leave;but that reminds me."

  "Of what?"

  "I do not wish her to be told."

  "Told what? What do you mean? My dear Phil, you are eccentric."

  "I have no time to dispute the point, Mildred. I wish to give onehasty direction, which is to be obeyed. Sibyl is not to be told that Iam going to Australia."

  "What, never?"

  "She must be told when I am gone, but not till then. I will write toher, and thus break the news. She is not to be told to-day, not untilshe gets home, you understand? I won't go at all if you tell her."

  "Oh, of course, I understand," said Mrs. Ogilvi
e, in a frightened way;"but why should not the child hear what really is good tidings?"

  "I do not wish it. Now, have you anything further to say, for I mustsee Lord Grayleigh immediately."

  Mrs. Ogilvie clutched her husband's arm.

  "You will leave me plenty of money when you go, will you not?"

  "You shall have a bank-book and an account, but you must be careful.My affairs are not in the most prosperous condition, and your billsare terribly heavy."

  "My bills! but I really----"

  "We will not dispute them. They shall be paid before I go."

  "Oh, my dear Philip, and you are not angry?"

  "They shall be paid, Mildred. The liquidation of your debts is part ofthe reward for taking up this loathsome work."

  "Philip, how ridiculously morbid you are!"

  The husband and wife walked slower and slower. Ogilvie saw Grayleighstanding on the steps.

  "There is Lord Grayleigh," he said. "I must go at once. Yes, thebills will be paid." He laid his hand for a moment on her shoulder.

  "There is nothing else, is there, Mildred?"

  "No," she began, then she hesitated.

  "What more?"

  "A trinket, it took my fancy--a diamond cross--you noticed it. I couldnot resist it."

  "How much?" said the man. His face was very stern and white, and therewas a blue look round his lips.

  "Two thousand pounds."

  "Let me have the bill to-morrow at latest. It shall be cleared. Nowdon't keep me."

  He strode past her and went up to where Lord Grayleigh was waiting forhim.

  "This is good," said the nobleman. "I am very sorry I could not cometo town. Yes, my ankle is better, but I dare not use it. I am limping,as you see."

  "Shall we go into the house?" said Ogilvie; "I want to get this thingover. I have not a moment if I am to start on Saturday."

  "You must do what we want. The public are impatient. We must get yourreport as soon as possible. You will wire it to us, of course."

  "That depends."

  "Now listen, Ogilvie," said Lord Grayleigh, as they both entered thestudy of the latter and Ogilvie sank into a chair, "you either do thisthing properly or you decline it, you give it up."

  "Can I? I thought the die was cast."

  "The worldly man in me echoes that hope, but I _could_ get Atherton totake your place even now."

  "Even now?" echoed Philip Ogilvie.

  "Even now it may be possible to manage it, although I"--Lord Grayleighhad a flashing memory of Sibyl's face and the look in her eyes, whenshe spoke of her perfect father. Then he glanced at the man who,silent and with suppressed suffering in his face, stood before him.The irresolution in Ogilvie's face took something from its character,and seemed to lower the man's whole nature. Lord Grayleigh shivered;then the uncomfortable sensation which the memory of Sibyl gave himpassed away.

  "I shall regret it extremely if you cannot do what I want," he said,with emphasis.

  Ogilvie had a quick sensation of momentary relief. His wife owedanother two thousand pounds. It would be bankruptcy, ruin if he didnot go. He stood up.

  "The time for discussing the thing is over," he said. "I willgo--and--do _as you wish_. The only thing to put straight is the pricedown."

  "What do you mean by the price down?"

  "I want money."

  "Of course, you shall have it."

  "I want more than my expenses, and something to cover the loss to mybusiness which my absence may create."

  "How much more?" Lord Grayleigh looked at him anxiously.

  "Ten thousand pounds in cash now, to be placed to my credit in mybank."

  "Ten thousand pounds in cash! That is a big order."

  "Not too big for what you require me to do. You make hundreds ofthousands by me eventually; what is one ten thousand? It will relievemy mind and set a certain matter straight. The fact is--I will confidein you so far--my own pecuniary affairs are anything but flourishing.I have had some calls to meet. What little property I own is settledon my wife. You know that a man cannot interfere with his marriagesettlements. I have one child. I want to make a special provision forher."

  "I know your child," said Lord Grayleigh, in a very grave tone; "sheis out of the common."

  A spasm of pain crossed the father's face.

  "She is," he answered slowly. "I wish to make a provision for her. IfI die (I may die, we are all mortal; I am going to a distant place;possibilities in favor of death are ten per cent. greater than if Iremain at home)--if I die, this will be hers. It will comfort me, andmake it absolutely impossible for me to go back. You understand thatsometimes a miserable starved voice within me speaks. I allude to thevoice of conscience. However much it clamors, I cannot listen to itwhen that sum of money lies in the bank to my credit, with my lastwill and testament leaving it eventually to my daughter."

  "I would not give your daughter such a portion, if I were you,"thought Lord Grayleigh, but he did not say the words aloud. He saidinstead, "What you wish shall be done."

  The two men talked a little longer together. Certain necessaryarrangements were concluded, and Ogilvie bore in his pocket before heleft a check for ten thousand pounds on Lord Grayleigh's privateaccount.

  "This clinches matters," he said, and he gave a significant glance atGrayleigh.

  "You will see Spielmann for all the rest," was Grayleigh's answer;"and now, if you must catch the train----"

  "Yes, I must; good-by."

  Lord Grayleigh walked with him as far as the porch.

  "Have you seen your wife?" he asked. "Can we not induce you to waitfor the next train and stay to lunch?"

  "No, thanks; it is impossible. Oh, I see you have sent for thedog-cart; I will drive to the station."

  Just then Sibyl, Gus and Freda appeared in view. Sibyl was extremelydirty. She had been climbing trees to good effect that morning, andthere was a rent in front of her dress and even a very apparent holein one of her stockings. She and Gus were arguing somewhat fiercely,and the cap she wore was pushed back, and her golden hair was all in atangle. Suddenly she raised her eyes, caught sight of her father, and,with a shout something between a whoop and a cry, flung herself intohis arms.

  "Daddy, daddy!" she cried.

  He clasped her tightly to his breast. He did not notice the shabbydress nor the torn stocking; he only saw the eager little face, theeyes brimful with love; he only felt the beating of the warm, warmheart.

  "Why, dad, now I shall be happy. Where are you, Gus? Gus, this isfather; Gus, come here!"

  But at a nod from Lord Grayleigh both Gus and Freda had vanished roundthe corner.

  "I will say good-by, if you must go, Ogilvie," said Grayleigh. Hetook his hand, gave it a sympathetic squeeze, and went into the house.

  "But must you go, father? Why, you have only just come," said Sibyl.

  "I must, my darling, I must catch the next train; there is not tenminutes. Jump on the dog-cart, and we will drive to the stationtogether."

  "Oh, 'licious!" cried Sibyl, "more than 'licious; but what will mothersay?"

  "Never mind, the coachman will bring you back. Jump up, quick."

  In another instant Sibyl was seated between her father and thecoachman. The spirited mare dashed forward, and they bowled down theavenue. Ogilvie's arm was tight round Sibyl's waist, he was huggingher to him, squeezing her almost painfully tight. She gasped a little,drew in her breath, and then resolved to bear it.

  "There's something troubling him, he likes having me near him,"thought the child. "I wouldn't let him see that he's squeezing me up abit too tight for all the world."

  The mare seemed to fly over the ground. Ogilvie was glad.

  "We shall have a minute or two at the station. I can speak to herthen," he thought. "I won't tell her that I am going, but I can saysomething." Then the station appeared in view, and the mare waspulled up with a jerk; Ogilvie jumped to his feet, and lifted Sibyl tothe ground.

  "Wait for the child," he said to the servant, "and take her
backcarefully to the house."

  "Yes, sir," answered the man, touching his hat.

  Ogilvie went into the little station, and Sibyl accompanied him.

  "I have my ticket," he said, "we have three minutes to spare, threewhole precious minutes."

  "Three whole precious minutes," repeated Sibyl. "What is it, father?"

  "I am thinking of something," he said.

  "What?" asked the girl.

  "For these three minutes, one hundred and eighty seconds, you and Iare to all intents and purposes alone in the world."

  "Father! why, so we are," she cried. "Mother's not here, we are allalone. Nothing matters, does it, when we are alone together?"

  "Nothing."

  "You don't look quite well, dear father."

  "I have been having some suffering lately, and am worried aboutthings, those sort of things that don't come to little girls."

  "Of course they don't, father, but when I'm a woman I'll have them.I'll take them instead of you."

  "Now listen, my darling."

  "Father, before you speak ... I know you are going to say somethingvery, _very_ solemn; I know you when you're in your solemn moments; Ilike you best of all then. You seem like Jesus Christ then. Don't youfeel like Jesus Christ, father?"

  "Never, Sib, never; but the time is going by, the train is signalled.My dearest, what is it?"

  "Mayn't I go back to town with you? I like the country, I like Gus andFreda and Mabel, but there is no place like your study in the evening,and there's no place like my bedroom at night when you come into it.I'd like to go back with you, wouldn't it be fun! Couldn't you takeme?"

  "I could, of course," said the man, and just for a moment he wavered.It would be nice to have her in the house, all by herself, for thenext two or three days, but he put the thought from him as if it werea temptation.

  "No, Sib," he said, "you must go back to your mother; it would not beat all right to leave your mother alone."

  "Of course not," she answered promptly, and she gave a sigh which wasscarcely a sigh.

  "It would have been nice all the same," said Ogilvie. "Ah! there ismy train; kiss me, darling."

  She flung her arms tightly round his neck.

  "Sibyl, just promise before I leave you that you will be a good girl,that you will make goodness the first thing in life. If, for instance,we were never to meet again--of course we shall, thousands of times,but just suppose, for the sake of saying it, that we did not, I shouldlike to know that my little girl put goodness first. There is nothingelse worth the while in life. Cling on to it, Sibyl, cling tight holdto it. Never forget that I----"

  "Yes, father, I will cling to it. Yes, father!"

  "That I wish it. You would do a great deal for me?"

  "For you and Lord Jesus Christ," she answered softly.

  "Then I wish this, remember, and whatever happens, whatever you hear,remember you promised. Now here's my train, stand back. Good-by,little woman, good-by."

  "I'll see you again very, very soon, father?"

  "Very soon," answered the man. He jumped into the carriage, the trainpuffed out of the station. A porter came up to Sibyl and spoke to her.

  "Anybody come to meet you, Miss?"

  "No, thank you," she answered with dignity; "I was seeing my fatheroff to town; there's my twap waiting outside."

  The man smiled, and the little girl went gravely out of the station.

  Sibyl went back to Lord Grayleigh's feeling perplexed. There was anexpression about her father's face which puzzled her.

  "He ought to have me at home with him," she thought. "I have seen himlike this now and then, and he's mostly not well. He's beautiful whenhe talks as he did to-day, but he's mostly not well when he does it. I'spect he's nearer Lord Jesus when he's not well, that must be it. Mymost perfect father wants me to be good; I don't want to be good abit, but I must, to please him."

  Just then a somewhat shrill and petulant voice called the child.

  "My dear Sibyl, where _have_ you been? What are you doing on thedog-cart? How unladylike. Jump down this minute."

  The man pulled up the mare, and Sibyl jumped to the ground. She mether mother's angry face with a smile which she tried hard to makesweet.

  "I didn't do anything naughty, really, Mummy," she said. "Father tookme to the station to say good-by. He's off back to town, and he tookme with him, and I came back on the twap."

  "Don't say twap, sound your 'r'--trap."

  "Tw-rap," struggled Sibyl over the difficult word.

  "And now you are to go into the house and ask Nurse to put on yourbest dress. I am going to take you to a garden party, immediatelyafter lunch. Mr. Rochester and Lady Helen Douglas are coming with us.Be quick."

  "Oh, 'licious," said Sibyl. She rushed into the house, and up to thenursery. Nurse was there waiting to deck her in silk and lace andfeathers. The little girl submitted to her toilet, and now took a vastinterest in it.

  "You must make me quite my prettiest self," she said to the nurse;"you must do your very best, 'cos mother----"

  "What about your mother now, missy?"

  "'Cos mother's just a little----Oh, nothing," said Sibyl, pullingherself up short.

  "She likes me best when I'm pretty," continued the child; "but fatherlikes me always. Nursie, do you know that my ownest father came downhere to-day, and that I dwove to the station to see him off? Did youknow it?"

  "No, Miss Sibyl, I can't say I did."

  "He talked to me in a most pwivate way," continued Sibyl. "He told memost 'portant things, and I promised him, Nursie--I promised him thatI'd----Oh, no! I won't tell you. Perhaps I won't be able to keep mypromise, and then you'd----Nothing, Nursie, nothing; don't be'quisitive. I can see in your face that you are all bursting with'quisitiveness; but you aren't to know. I am going to a party with myown mother after lunch, and Lady Helen is coming, and Mr. Rochester. Ilike them both very much indeed. Lady Helen told me stories lastnight. She put her arm round my waist, and she talked to me; and Itold her some things, too, and she laughed."

  "What did you tell her, Miss Sibyl?"

  "About my father and mother. She laughed quite funnily. I wish peoplewouldn't; it shows how little they know. It's 'cos they are so farfrom being perfect that they don't understand perfect people. Butthere's the lunch gong. Yes, I do look very nice. Good-by, Nursie."

  Sibyl ran downstairs. The children always appeared at this meal, andshe took her accustomed place at the table. Very soon afterwards, she,her mother, Lady Helen, and Mr. Rochester, started for a place aboutten miles off, where an afternoon reception was being given.

  Sibyl felt inclined to be talkative, and Mrs. Ogilvie, partly becauseshe had a sore feeling in her heart with regard to her husband'sdeparture, although she would not acknowledge it, was inclined to besnappish. She pulled the little girl up several times, and at lastSibyl subsided in her seat, and looked out straight before her. It wasthen that Lady Helen once more put her arm round her waist.

  "Presently," said Lady Helen, "when the guests are all engaged, youand I will slip out by ourselves, and I will show you one of the mostbeautiful views in all England. We climb a winding path, and wesuddenly come out quite above all the trees, and we look around us;and when we get there, you'll be able to see the blue sea in thedistance, and the ships, one of which is going to take your----"

  But just then Mrs. Ogilvie gave Helen Douglas so severe a push withher foot, that she stopped, and got very red.

  "What ship do you mean?" said Sibyl, surprised at the sudden break inthe conversation, and now intensely interested, "the ship that isgoing to take my--my what?"

  "Did you never hear the old saying, that you must wait until your shipcomes home?" interrupted Mr. Rochester, smiling at the child, andlooking at Lady Helen, who had not got over her start and confusion.

  "But this ship was going out," said Sibyl. "Never mind, I 'spect it'sa secret; there's lots of 'em floating round to-day. I've got some'portant ones of my own. Never mind, Lady Helen, don't blush no m
ore."She patted Lady Helen in a patronizing way on her hand, and the wholeparty laughed; the tension was, for the time, removed.