Daddy's Girl

  CHAPTER VIII

  Ogilvie made a will leaving the ten thousand pounds which LordGrayleigh had given him absolutely to Sibyl for her sole use andbenefit. He also made all other preparations for his absence fromhome, and started for Queensland on Saturday. He wrote to his wife onthe night before he left England, repeating his injunction that on noaccount was Sibyl to be yet told of his departure.

  "When she absolutely must learn it, break it to her in the tenderestway possible," he said; "but as Grayleigh has kindly invited you bothto stay on at Grayleigh Manor for another week, you may as well do so,and while there I want the child to be happy. The country air and thecompanionship of other children are doing her a great deal of good. Inever saw her look better than I did the other day. I should also beextremely glad, Mildred, if on your return to town you would arrangeto send Sibyl to a nice day-school, where she could have companions. Ihave nothing to say against Miss Winstead, but I think the child wouldbe better, less old-fashioned, and might place us more on the pedestalwhich we really ought to occupy, if she had other children to talk toand exchange thoughts with. Try to act, my dear wife, as I would likein this particular, I beg of you. Also when you have to let my darlingknow that I am away, you will find a letter for her in my left-handtop drawer in my study table. Give it to her, and do not ask to seeit. It is just a little private communication from her father, and forher eyes alone. Be sure, also, you tell her that, all being well, Ihope to be back in England by the end of the summer."

  Ogilvie added some more words to his letter, and Mrs. Ogilvie receivedit on Saturday morning. She read it over carelessly, and then turnedto Jim Rochester who stood near. During her visit to Grayleigh Manorshe had got to know this young man very well, and to like himextremely. He was good-looking, pleasant to talk to, well informed,and with genial, hearty views of life. He had been well brought up,and his principles were firm and unshaken. His notion of living was todo right on every possible occasion, to turn from the wrong withhorror, to have faith in God, to keep religion well in view, and asfar as in him lay to love his neighbor better than himself.

  Rochester, it may be frankly stated, had some time ago lost his heartto Lady Helen Douglas, who, on her part, to all appearance returnedhis affection. Nothing had yet, however, been said between the pair,although Rochester's eyes proclaimed his secret whenever they restedon Lady Helen's fair face.

  He watched Mrs. Ogilvie now with a sudden interest as she folded upher husband's letter.

  "Well," she said, turning to him and uttering a quick sigh; "he isoff, it is a _fait accompli_. Do you know, I am relieved."

  "Are you?" he answered. He looked at her almost wistfully. He himselfwas sorry for Ogilvie, he did not know why. He was, of course, awarethat he was going to Queensland to assay the Lombard Deeps, for thetalk of the great new gold mine had already reached his ears. He knewthat Ogilvie, moreover, looked pale, ill at ease, and worried. Hesupposed that this uneasiness and want of alacrity in carrying a verypleasurable business to a successful issue was caused by the man'sgreat attachment to his wife and child. Mrs. Ogilvie must also besorry when she remembered that it would be many months before she sawhim again. But there was no sorrow now in the soft eyes which met his,nothing but a look of distinct annoyance.

  "Really," she said with an impatient movement, "I must confide in someone, and why not in you, Mr. Rochester, as well as another? I havealready told you that my husband is absolutely silly about thatchild. From her birth he has done all that man could do to spoil her."

  "But without succeeding," interrupted Jim Rochester. "I am quitefriendly with your little Sibyl now," he added, "and I never saw anicer little girl."

  "Oh, that is what strangers always say," replied Mrs. Ogilvie,shrugging her shoulders, "and the child is nice, I am not denying itfor a moment, but she would be nicer if she were not simply ruined. Hewants her to live in an impossible world, without any contradictionsor even the smallest pain. You will scarcely believe it, but he wouldnot allow me, the other day, to tell her such a very simple, ordinarything as that he was going to Queensland on business, and now, in hisletter, he still begs of me to keep it a secret from her. She is notto know anything about his absence until she returns to London,because, forsooth, the extra week she is to spend in the country wouldnot do her so much good if she were fretting. Why should Sibyl fret?Surely it is not worse for her than for me; not nearly as bad, forthat matter."

  "I am glad you feel it," said Rochester.

  "Feel it? What a strange remark! Did you think I was heartless? Ofcourse I feel it, but I am not going to be silly or sentimental overthe matter. Philip is a very lucky man to have this business to do. Iwould not be so foolish as to keep him at home; but he is ruining thatchild, ruining her. She gets more spoilt and intolerable every day."

  "Forgive me, Mrs. Ogilvie," said Lady Helen, who came upon the sceneat that moment, "I heard you talking of your little daughter. I don'tthink I ever met a sweeter child."

  Mrs. Ogilvie threw up her hands in protest.

  "There you go," she said. "Mr. Rochester has been saying almost thevery same words, Lady Helen. Now let me tell you that Sibyl is notyour child; no one can be more charming to strangers."

  As Mrs. Ogilvie spoke she walked a few steps away; then she turned andresumed her conversation.

  "The annoying part of this letter," she said, "is that Philip haswritten a private communication to Sibyl, and when she hears of hisabsence she is to be given this letter, and I am not even to see it. Idon't think I shall give it to her; I really must now take themanagement of the child into my own hands. Her father will beabsent----Oh, there you are, Sibyl. What are you doing, loiteringabout near windows? Why don't you play with your companions?" ForSibyl had burst in by the open window, looking breathless.

  "I thought--I thought," she began; "I thought, mother, that I heardyou----" her face was strangely white, and her wide-open eyes lookedalmost wild in expression.

  "It's not true, of course; but I thought I heard you say somethingabout father, and a--a letter I was to have in his absence. Did yousay it, mother?"

  "I said nothing of the sort," replied Mrs. Ogilvie, flushing red, andalmost pushing Sibyl from the room, "nothing of the sort; go andplay."

  Sibyl gave her an earnest and very penetrating look. She did notglance either at Mr. Rochester or Lady Helen.

  "It's wicked for good people to tell lies, isn't it?" she said then,slowly.

  "Wicked," cried her mother; "it's shamefully wicked."

  "And you are good, mother, you don't ever tell lies; I believe you,mother, of course." She turned and went out of the room. As she wentslowly in the direction of the field where the other children weretaking turns to ride bareback one of the horses, her thoughts werevery puzzled.

  "I wish things would be 'splained to me," she said, half aloud, andshe pushed back her curls from her forehead. "There are more and morethings every day want 'splaining. I certainly did hear her say it. Iheard them all talking, and Lady Helen said something, and Mr.Rochester said something, and mother said that father wished me not toknow, and I was to have a letter, and then mother said 'in hisabsence.' Oh, what can it mean?"

  The other children shouted to her from the field, but she was in nomood to join them, and just then Lord Grayleigh, who was pacing up anddown his favorite walk, called her to his side.

  "What a puzzled expression you are wearing, my little girl," he said."Is anything the matter?"

  Sibyl skipped up to him. Some of the cloud left her face. Perhaps hecould put things straight for her.

  "I want to ask you a question," she said.

  "You are always asking questions. Now ask me something really nice;but first, I have something to say. I am in a very giving mood thismorning. Sometimes I am in a saving mood, and would not give so muchas a brass farthing to anybody, but I am in the other sort of moodto-day. I am in the mood to give a little golden-haired girlcalled----"

  "Sibyl," said the child, beginning to laugh; "if she is golden-hairedi
t must be me. What is it you want to give me?"

  Her attention was immediately arrested; her eyes shone and her lipssmiled.

  "What would you like best in the world?"

  "Oh, best in the whole world? But I cannot have that, not for aweek--we are going home this day week."

  "And what will you have when you go home?"

  "Father's kiss every night. He always comes up, Lord Grayleigh, andtucks me in bed, and he kisses me, and we have a cozy talk. He nevermisses, never, when he is at home. I am lonesome here, Lord Grayleigh,because mother does not think it good for me that she should come; shewould if she thought it good for me."

  "Well," said Lord Grayleigh, who for some reason did not feel quitecomfortable as Sibyl talked of her father's kisses, "we must findsomething for you, not quite the best thing of all. What would be thenext best?"

  "I know," said Sibyl, laughing, "a Shetland pony; oh, I do want one sobadly. Mother sometimes rides in the Park, and I do so long to go withher, but she said we couldn't afford it. Oh, I do want a pony."

  "You shall have one," said Lord Grayleigh; "it shall be my present toa very good, charming little girl."

  "Do you really think I am good?"

  "Good? Excellent; you are a pattern to us all."

  "Wouldn't father like to hear you. It's wonderful how he talked to meabout being good. I am not really good, you know; but I mean to try.If you were to look into my heart, you would see--oh, but you shan'tlook." She started back, clasped her hands, and laughed. "But whenfather looks next, he shall see, oh, a white heart with all thenaughtiness gone."

  "Tell me exactly what sort of pony you would like," said LordGrayleigh, who thought it desirable to turn the conversation.

  "It must have a long mane, and not too short a tail," said Sibyl; "andbe sure you give me the very nicest, newest sort of side-saddle, sameas mother has herself, for mother's side-saddle is very comfy. Oh, andI'd like a riding habit like mother's, too. Mother will be sure to sayshe can't 'ford one for me, but you'll give me one if you give me thepony and the side-saddle, won't you?"

  "I'll give you the pony and the side-saddle, and the habit," said LordGrayleigh. "I'll choose the pony to-morrow, and bring him back withme. I am going to Lyndhurst, in the New Forest, where they are goingto have a big horse fair. You will not mind having a New Forest ponyinstead of a Shetland?"

  "A perfect person could not tell a lie, could she?"asked Sibyl.--Page 123. _Daddy's Girl._]

  "I don't mind what sort my darling pony is," answered the child. "Ionly want to have it. Oh, you are nice. I began by not liking you,but I like you awfully now. You are very nice, indeed."

  "And so are you. It seems to me we suit each other admirably."

  "There are lots of nice people in the world," said Sibyl. "It's a verypleasant place. There are two quite perfect, and there are others verynice; you and Mr. Rochester and Lady Helen. But, oh, Lord Grayleigh, Iknow now what I wanted to say. A perfect person couldn't never tell alie, could she?"

  "Oh, it's the feminine gender," said Lord Grayleigh softly, under hisbreath.

  "It's a she," said Sibyl; "could she; could she?"

  "A perfect person could not, little girl."

  "Now you have made me so happy that I am going to kiss you," saidSibyl. She made a spring forward, flung her arms round his neck, andkissed him twice on his rough cheek. The next instant she had vanishedout of sight and joined her companions.

  "It's all right," she said to Gus, who looked at her in someamazement. "It's all right; I got a fright, but there wasn't a word ofit true. Come, let's play. Oh, do you know your father is going togive me a pony? I am so happy."

  In a week's time Mrs. Ogilvie and Sibyl returned to town. Sibyl wasintensely joyful on this occasion, and confided in everyone what ahappy night she would have.

  "You don't know what father is," she said, looking full up intoRochester's eyes. He was standing on the terrace, and the little girlwent and stood by his side. Sibyl was in her most confiding mood. Sheconsidered Lord Grayleigh, Mr. Rochester, Lady Helen, and the childrenwere all her special friends. It was impossible to doubt their entiresympathy and absolute ability to rejoice in her joy.

  "I have had a good time here," she said, "very good. Lord Grayleighhas been nice; I began by not liking him, but I like him now, and Ilike you awfully, but after all there's no place for me like my own,own home. It's 'cos of father."

  "Yes," said Rochester. He looked anxiously, as Sibyl spoke, towardsthe house. Everyone at Grayleigh Manor now knew that Sibyl was not tobe told of her father's absence during her visit. No one approved ofthis course, although no one felt quite towards it with the same senseof irritation that Mrs. Ogilvie herself did. Rochester wished at thisinstant that Lord Grayleigh or someone else would appear. He wantedanything to cause a diversion, but Sibyl, in happy ignorance of hissentiments, talked on.

  "It is at night that my father is the most perfect of all," she said."I wish you could see him when he comes into my room. I am in bed, youknow, lying down flat on my back, and mostly thinking about theangels. I do that a lot at night, I have no time in the day; I thinkof the angels, and Lord Jesus Christ, and heaven, and then fathercomes in. He opens the door soft, and he treads on tiptoe for fear I'masleep, as if I could be! And then he kisses me, and I think in thewhole of heaven there can never be an angel so good and beautiful ashe is, and he says something to me which keeps me strong until thenext night, when he says something else."

  "But your mother?" stammered Rochester. He was about to add, "Shewould go to your room, would she not?" when he remembered that sheherself had told him that nothing would induce her to adopt sopernicious a course.

  "Oh, you're thinking about my perfect mother, too," said Sibyl. "Yes,she is perfect, but there are different sorts in the world. My ownmother thinks it is not good for me to lie awake at night and think ofthe angels and wait for father. She thinks that I ought to bear theyoke in my youth. Solomon, the wise King Solomon--you have heard ofhim, haven't you?"

  Rochester nodded.

  "He wrote that verse about bearing the yoke when you are young. Ilearnt it a week ago, and I felt it just 'splained about my mother.It's really very brave of mother; but, you see, father thinksdifferent, and, of course, I nat'rally like father's way best.Mother's way is the goodest for me, p'waps. Don't you think mother'sway is the goodest for me, Mr. Rochester?"

  "I dare say it is good for you, Sibyl. Now, shall we go and find LadyHelen?"

  "Seems to me," said Sibyl, "I'm always looking for Lady Helen when I'mwith you. Is it 'cos you're so desperate fond of her?"

  "Don't you like her yourself?" said the young man, reddening visibly.

  "Like her? I like her just awfully. She's the most 'licious person totell stories I ever comed across in all my borned days. She tellsevery sort of story about giants and fairies and adventures, andstories of little girls just like me. Does she tell you stories aboutmen just like you, and is that why you like to be with her?"

  "Well, I can't honestly say that she has ever yet told me a story, butI will ask her to do so."

  "Do," said Sibyl; "ask her to tell you a story about a man likeyourself. Make him rather pwoper and stiff and shy, and let him blushsometimes. You do, you know you do. Maybe it will do you good to hearabout him. Now come along and let's find her."

  So Sibyl and Rochester hunted all over the place for Lady Helen, andwhen they found her not, for she had gone to the nearest village on acommission with one of the children, Rochester's face looked somewhatgrave, and his answers to the child were a little _distrait_. Sibylsaid to him in a tone of absolute sympathy and good faith--

  "Cheer up, won't you? She is quite certain to marry you in the longrun."

  "Don't talk like that," said Rochester in a voice of pain.

  "Don't what? You do want to marry Lady Helen. I heard mother say soyesterday. I heard her say so to Hortense. Hortense was brushing herhair, and mother said, 'It would be a good match on the whole for LadyHelen, 'cos she is as poor as
a church mouse, and Jim Rochester hasmoney.' Is my darling Lady Helen as poor as a church mouse, and haveyou lots of money, Mr. Rochester?"

  "I have money, but not lots. You ought not to repeat what you hear,"said the young man.

  "But why? I thought everybody knew. You are always trying to make hermarry you, I see it in your eyes; you don't know how you look when youlook at her, oh--ever so eager, same as I look when father's in theroom and he is not talking to me. I hope you will marry her, moreespecial if she's as poor as a church mouse. I never knew why micewere poor, nor why mother said it, but she did. Oh, and there ismother, I must fly to her; good-by--good-by."

  Rochester concealed his feelings as best he could, and hurriedimmediately into a distant part of the grounds, where he cogitatedover what Sibyl, in her childish, way, had revealed.

  The pony had been purchased, and Sibyl had ridden it once. It was abright bay with a white star on its forehead. It was a well-groomed,well-trained little animal, and Lord Grayleigh had given Sibyl herfirst riding lesson, and had shown her how to hold the reins, and howto sit on her saddle, and the riding habit had come from town, and thesaddle was the newest and most comfortable that money could buy.

  "It is my present to you," said Lord Grayleigh, "and remember when youride it that you are going to be a good girl."

  "Oh dear, oh dear," said Sibyl, "I don't want _everyone_ to tell methat I am to be a good girl. If it was father; but--don't please, LordGrayleigh; I'll do a badness if you talk to me any more about being sogood."

  "Well, I won't," said Lord Grayleigh, laughing.

  "I 'spect father will write you a most loving letter about this," saidSibyl. "Won't he be 'sprised? And did you tell mother about me havinga ride every morning?"

  "I did."

  "And did you speak to her about the food for my pony all being paidfor?"

  "Yes, everything is arranged. Your pony shall be the best cared for inall London, and you shall ride him every day for half-an-hour beforeyou go to school."

  "Oh, I never go to school," said Sibyl in a sorrowful voice. "I have aMiss Winstead to teach me. She is the sort that--oh, well, no matter;she means all right, poor thing. She wants the money, so of course shehas to stay. She doesn't suit me a bit, but she wants the money. It'sall right, isn't it?"

  "So it seems, little girl; and now here is the carriage, and the ponyhas gone off to London already, and will be ready to take you on hisback to-morrow morning. Be sure you think of a nice name for him."

  "Father will tell me a name. I won't let anybody else christen myownest pony. Good-by, Lord Grayleigh. I like you very much. Saygood-by to Mr. Rochester for me--oh, and there is Lady Helen;good-by, Lady Helen--good-by."

  They all kissed Sibyl when they parted from her, and everyone wassorry at seeing the last of her bright little face, and manyconjectures went forth with regard to the trouble that was before thechild when she got to London. One and all thought that Ogilvie hadbehaved cruelly, and that his wife was somewhat silly to have yieldedto him.

  Sibyl went up to town in the highest spirits. She chatted so much onthe road that her mother at last told her to hold her tongue.

  "Sit back in your seat and don't chatter," she said, "you disturbother people."

  The other people in the carriage consisted of a very old gentleman anda small boy of Sibyl's own age. The small boy smiled at Sibyl and shesmiled back, and if her mother had permitted it would have chatted tohim in a moment of her hopes and longings; but, when mother put onthat look, Sibyl knew that she must restrain her emotions, and she satback in her seat, and thought about the children who bore the yoke intheir youth, and how good it was for them, and how rapidly she wasgrowing into the sort of little girl her father most liked.

  "Mother," she said, as they got towards the end of the journey, "I'm'proving, aren't I?"

  "Proving, what do you mean?"

  "_Im_proving, mother."

  "I can't say that I see it, Sibyl; you have been very troublesome forthe last few days."

  "Oh!" said the child, "oh!"

  Sibyl changed seats from the one opposite, and nestled up close to hermother, she tucked her hand inside her arm, and then began to talk ina loud, buzzing whisper.

  "It's 'cos of father," she said; "he begged me so earnest to be a goodgirl, and I _have_ tried, _haven't_ you noticed it, mother? Won't youtell him when we get home that I have tried?"

  "Don't worry me, Sibyl, you know my views. I want you to be just asensible, good child, without any of those high-flown notions. When wereturn to town you must make up for your long holiday. You must doyour lessons with extreme care, and try to please Miss Winstead."

  "And to please father and Lord Jesus."

  "Yes, yes, child."

  "And to have a ride every morning on my darling pony?"

  "We will try and manage that. Lord Grayleigh has been almost sillyover that pony; I doubt whether it is wise for you to have it."

  "Oh, mother, he did say he would buy everything--the pony, thesaddle, the habit, and he would 'ford the food, too. You have not gotto pay out any money, mother, have you?"

  "Hush, don't talk so loud."

  The old gentleman buried himself in _The Times_ in order not to hearSibyl's distressed voice, and the little boy stared out of the windowand got very red.

  "Take up your book and stop talking," said Mrs. Ogilvie.

  Sibyl took up a book which she already knew by heart, and kept back asorrowful sigh.

  "But it don't matter," she said to herself; "when I see father, he'llunderstand."

  They got to town, where a carriage was waiting for them. Sibyl couldscarcely restrain her eagerness.

  "Mother, may I ask John if father's likely to be at home? Sometimes hecomes home earlier than usual. P'waps he came home to lunch and iswaiting for us. Can I call out to John through the window, mother?"

  "No, sit still, you do fidget so."

  "I'll try to be quiet, mother; it's only 'cos I'm so incited."

  "Oh, dear," said Mrs. Ogilvie to herself, "what an awful evening I amlikely to have! When the silly child really finds out that her fatherhas gone, she will burst into hysterics, or do something else absurd.I really wish it had been my luck to marry a husband with a grain ofsense. I wonder if I had better tell her now. No, I really cannot.Miss Winstead must do it. Miss Winstead has been having a niceholiday, with no fuss or worry of any sort, and it is quite fair thatshe should bear the burden of this. But why it should be regarded as aburden or a trial is a puzzle. Philip goes on a sort of pleasureexpedition to Queensland, and the affair is treated almost as if--asif it were a death. It is positively uncanny."

  Sibyl noticed that her mother was silent, and that she looked worried.Presently she stretched out her hand and stroked her mother's.

  "What are you doing that for?"

  "'Cos I thought I'd rub you the right way," said Sibyl. "You are likea poor cat when it is rubbed the wrong way, aren't you, just now,mother?"

  "Don't be so ridiculous." Mrs. Ogilvie snatched her hand away.

  They soon reached the house. The footman, Watson, sprang down andlowered the steps. Sibyl bounded out and flew into the hall.

  "Father, father!" she called. "I'm back. Are you in, father? Here Iare--Sibyl. I'm home again, father. The Angel is home again, father."

  She did not often call herself the Angel, the name seemed to have moreor less slipped out of sight, but she did on this occasion, and shethrew back her pretty head and looked up the wide staircase, as if anymoment she might see her father hurrying down to meet her.

  Mrs. Ogilvie turned to one of the servants, who was watching the childin astonishment.

  "She does not know yet," whispered Mrs. Ogilvie. "I am going into thelibrary; don't tell her anything, pray, but send Miss Winstead to meimmediately."

  Mrs. Ogilvie entered the library. Sibyl danced in after her.

  "I can't see father anywhere," she said: "I 'spect he's not back yet."

  "Of course he is not back so early. Now run upstairs
and ask Nurse tomake you ready for tea. Leave me, I have something to say to MissWinstead."

  Miss Winstead appeared at that moment. She had enjoyed her holiday,and looked the better for it. Though she understood Sibyl very little,yet at this moment she gazed at the child almost with alarm, for Mrs.Ogilvie had written to her telling her that Mr. Ogilvie's absence hadnot been alluded to in the child's presence.

  Sibyl rushed to her and kissed her.

  "I am back, and I am going to be good," she said. "I really, truly am;aren't you glad to see me?"

  "Yes, Sibyl."

  "Go upstairs now, Sibyl," said her mother. Sibyl obeyed somewhatunwillingly, some of the laughter went out of her eyes, and a littleof the excitement faded from her heart. She went up the wide stairsslowly, very slowly. Even now she hoped that it might be possible forher father to appear, turning the angle of the winding stairs, comingout of one of the rooms. He always had such a bright face, there wasan eagerness about it. He was tall and rather slender, and that brightlook in his eyes always caused the child's heart to leap; then hismouth could wear such a beautiful smile. It did not smile for manypeople, but it always did for Sibyl. She wanted to see him, oh, sobadly, so badly.

  "Well, never mind," she said to herself, "he can't help it, thedarling; but he'll be back soon," and she tripped into her nursery andsat down; but she did not ask Nurse any questions, she was too busywith her own thoughts.