by L. T. Meade
CHAPTER V.
Sibyl's conduct was exemplary at dessert. She was quiet, she wasmodest, she was extremely polite. When spoken to she answered in themost correct manner. When guests smiled at her, she gave them a setsmile in return. She accepted just that portion of the dessert whichher mother most wished her to eat, eschewing unwholesome sweets, andpartaking mostly of grapes. Especially was she polite to LordGrayleigh, who called her to his side, and even put his arm round herwaist. He wondered afterwards why she shivered when he did this. Butshe stood upright as a dart, and looked him full in the face withthose extraordinary eyes of hers.
At last the children's hour, as it was called, came to an end, and thefour went round kissing and shaking hands with the different guests.Mrs. Ogilvie put her hand for an instant on Sibyl's shoulder.
"I am pleased with you," she said; "you behaved very nicely. Go to bednow."
"Will you come and see me, Mumsy--mother, I mean--before you go tobed?"
"Oh no, child, nonsense! you must be asleep hours before then. No,this is good-night. Now go quietly."
Sibyl did go quietly. Mrs. Ogilvie turned to her neighbor.
"That is such an absurd custom," she said; "I must break her of it."
"Break your little girl of what?" he asked. "She is a beautifulchild," he added. "I congratulate you on having such a charmingdaughter."
"I have no doubt she will make a very pretty woman," replied Mrs.Ogilvie, "and I trust she will have a successful career; but what Iwas alluding to now was her insane wish that I should go and saygood-night to her. Her father spoils that child dreadfully. He insistson her staying up to our late dinner, which in itself is quite againstall my principles, and then will go up to her room every evening whenhe happens to be at home. She lies awake for him at night, and theytalk sentiment to each other. Very bad, is it not; quite out of date."
"I don't know," answered Mr. Rochester; "if it is an old custom itseems to me it has good in it." As he spoke he thought again of theeager little face, the pathetic soft eyes, the pleading in the voice.Until within this last half-hour he had not known of Sibyl'sexistence; but from this instant she was to come into his heart andbear fruit.
Meanwhile the child went straight to her room.
"Won't you come to the schoolroom now?" asked Gus in a tone ofremonstrance.
"No; mother said I was to go to bed," answered Sibyl.
"How proper and good you have turned," cried Mabel.
"Good-night," said Sibyl. She could be quite dignified when shepleased. She allowed the girls to kiss her, and she shook hands withGus, and felt grown-up, and, on the whole, notwithstanding theunsatisfied feeling at her heart, rather pleased with herself. Sheentered the room she called the nursery, and it looked cheerful andbright. Old nurse had had the fire lit, and was sitting by it. Akettle steamed on the hob, and nurse's cup and saucer and teapot, andsome bread and butter and cakes, were spread on the table. But asSibyl came in the sense of satisfaction which she had felt for amoment or two dropped away from her like a mantle, and she only knewthat the ache at her heart was worse than ever. She sat down quietly,and did not speak, but gazed fixedly into the fire.
"What is it, pet?" nurse said. "Is anything the matter?"
"No," answered Sibyl. "Nursie, can I read the Bible a bit?"
"Sakes alive!" cried nurse, for Sibyl had never been remarkable forany religious tendency, "to be sure, my darling," she answered. "Inever go from home without my precious Bible. It is the one my mothergave me when I was a little girl. I'll fetch it for you, dearie."
"Thank you," replied Sibyl.
Nurse returned, and the much-read, much-worn Bible was placedreverently in Sibyl's hands.
"Now, my little darling," said nurse, "you look quite white. You'lljust read a verse or two, and then you'll go off to your bed."
"I want to find a special verse," said Sibyl. "When I have read it Iwill go to bed." She knitted her brows and turned the pages in apuzzled, anxious way.
"What's fretting you, dear? I know the Bible, so to speak, from end toend. Can old nursie help you in any way?"
"I know the verse is somewhere, but I cannot find the place. Iremember reading it, and it has come back to me to-night."
"What is it, dear?"
"'God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace unto the humble.'"
"Oh, yes, love," answered nurse promptly, "that's in the Epistle ofSt. James, fourth chapter, sixth verse. I learned the whole of theEpistle for my mother when I was young, and I have never forgotten aword of it. Here it is, dear."
"But what are you fretting your head over that verse for?" asked thepuzzled old woman; "there's some that I could find for you a deal moresuitable to little ladies like yourself. There's a beautiful verse,for instance, which says, 'Children, obey your parents in the Lord.'That means all those in charge of you, dear, nurses and governessesand all. I heard its meaning explained once very clear, and that washow it was put."
"There is not a bit about nurses and governesses in the Bible," saidSibyl, who had no idea of being imposed upon, although she was introuble. "Never mind that other verse now, nursie, it's not that I'mthinking of, it's the one you found about 'God resisteth the proud,and giveth grace to the humble.' It seems to 'splain things."
"What things, dear?"
"Why, about mother. Nursie, isn't my mother quite the very humblestwoman in all the world?"
"Oh, my goodness me, no!" exclaimed the woman under her breath. "Iwouldn't remark it, my dear," she said aloud.
"That's 'cos you know so very little. You can't never guess what myownest mother said to me to-day, and I'm not going to tell you, onlythat verse comforts me, and I understand now."
Sibyl got up and asked nurse to take off her pink frock. She feltquite cheerful and happy again. She knelt down in her white nightdressand said her prayers. She always prayed for her father and mother in apeculiar way. She never asked God to give them anything, they hadalready got all that heart could wish. They were beautiful in person,they were lovely in character, they were perfect in soul. She couldonly thank God for them. So she thanked God now as usual.
"Thank You, Jesus, for giving me father and mother," said Sibyl, "andin especial for making my mother just so truly perfect that she ishumble. She does not like me to think too much of her. It is becauseshe is humble, and You give grace to the humble. It is a great comfortto me, Jesus, to know that, because I could not quite understand mymother afore dinner. Good-night, Jesus, I am going to sleep now; I amquite happy."
Sibyl got into bed, closed her eyes, and was soon sound asleep.
On the following Monday Lord Grayleigh went to town, and there he hada rather important interview with Philip Ogilvie.
"I failed to understand your letter," he said, "and have come to youfor an explanation."
Ogilvie was looking worried and anxious.
"I thought my meaning plain enough," he replied, "but as you are here,I will answer you; and first, I want to put a question to you. Why doyou wish me to be the assayer?"
"For many reasons; amongst others, because I wish to do you a goodturn. For your position you are not too well off. This will meanseveral thousands a year to you, if the vein is as rich as we hope itwill be. The alluvial we know is rich. It has washed at five ounces tothe ton."
"But if there should not happen to be a rich vein beneath?" queriedOgilvie, and as he spoke he watched his companion narrowly.
Lord Grayleigh shrugged his shoulders. The action was significant.
"I see," cried Ogilvie. He was silent for a moment, then he sprangto his feet. "I have regarded you as my friend for some time,Grayleigh, and there have been moments when I have been proud of youracquaintanceship, but in the name of all that is honorable, and allthat is virtuous, why will you mix up a pretended act of benevolenceto me with--you know what it means--a fraudulent scheme? You aredetermined that there shall be a rich vein below the surface. Inplain words, if there is not, you want a false assay of the LombardDeeps. That is the plain Eng
lish of it, isn't it?"
"Pooh! my dear Ogilvie, you use harsh words. Fraudulent! What does theworld--our world I mean--consist of? Those who make money, and thosewho lose it. It is a great competition of skill--a mere duel of wits.All is fair in love, war, and speculation."
"Your emendation of that old proverb may be _fin de siecle_, but itdoes not suit my notions," muttered Ogilvie, sitting down again.
Grayleigh looked keenly at him.
"You will be sorry for this," he said; "it means much to you. Youwould be quite safe, you know that."
"And what of the poor country parson, the widow, the mechanic? I grantthey are fools; but----"
"What is the matter with you?" said Lord Grayleigh; "you never were soscrupulous."
"I don't know that I am scrupulous now. I shall be very glad to assaythe mine for you, if I may give you a----"
"We need not enter into that," said Grayleigh, rising; "you havealready put matters into words which had better never have beenuttered. I will ask you to reconsider this: it is a task tooimportant to decline without weighing all the _pros_ and _cons_. Youshall have big pay for your services; big pay, you understand."
"And it is that which at once tempts and repels me," said Ogilvie.Then he paused, and said abruptly, "How is Sibyl? Have you seen muchof her?"
"Your little daughter? I saw her twice. Once, when she was very dirty,and rather rude to me, and a second time, when she was the perfectionof politeness and good manners."
"Sibyl is peculiar," said Ogilvie, and his eyes gleamed with a flashof the same light in them which Sibyl's wore at intervals.
"She is a handsome child, it is a pity she is your only one, Ogilvie."
"Not at all," answered Ogilvie; "I never wish for another, shesatisfies me completely."
"Well, to turn to the present matter," said Lord Grayleigh; "you willreconsider your refusal?"
"I would rather not."
"But if I as a personal favor beg you to do so."
"There is not the slightest doubt that the pay tempts me," saidOgilvie; "it would be a kindness on your part to close the matter nowfinally, to relieve me from temptation. But suppose I were to--toyield, what would the shareholders say?"
"They would be managed. The shareholders will expect to pay theengineer who assays the mine for them handsomely."
Ogilvie stood in a dubious attitude, Grayleigh went up and laid hishand on his shoulder.
"I will assume," he said, "that you get over scruples which after allmay have no foundation, for the mine may be all that we wish it to be.What I want to suggest is this. Someone must go to Australia to assaythe Lombard Deeps. If you will not take the post we must get someoneelse to step into your shoes. The new claim was discovered by themerest accident, and the reports state it to be one of the richestthat has ever been panned out. Of course that is as it may be. We willpresent you, if you give a good assay, with five hundred shares in thenew syndicate. You can wait until the shares go up, and then sell out.You will clear thousands of pounds. We will also pay your expenses andcompensate you handsomely for the loss of your time. This is Monday;we want you to start on Saturday. Give me your decision on Wednesdaymorning. I won't take a refusal now."
Ogilvie was silent; his face was very white, and his lips werecompressed together. Soon afterward the two men parted.
Lord Grayleigh returned to Grayleigh Manor by a late train, andOgilvie went back to his empty house. Amongst other letters whichawaited him was one with a big blot on the envelope. This blot wassurrounded by a circle in red ink, and was evidently of great momentto the writer. The letter was addressed to "Philip Ogilvie, Esq.," ina square, firm, childish hand, and the great blot stood a little awayfrom the final Esquire. It gave the envelope an altogether strikingand unusual appearance. The flap was sealed with violet wax, and hadan impression on it which spelt Sibyl. Ogilvie, when he received thisletter, took it up tenderly, looked at the blot on the cover of theenvelope, glanced behind him in a shamefaced way, pressed his lips tothe violet seal which contained his little daughter's name, thensitting down in his chair, he opened the envelope.
Sibyl was very good at expressing her feelings in words, but as yetshe was a poor scribe, and her orthography left much to be desired.Her letter was somewhat short, and ran as follows:--
"DADDY DEAR,--Here's a blot to begin, and the blot means a kiss. I will put sum more at the end of the letter. Pleas kiss all the kisses for they com from the verry botom of my hart. I have tried Daddy to be good cos of you sinse I left home, but I am afraid I have been rather norty. Mother gets more purfect evry day. She is bewtiful and humbel. Mother said she wasn't purfect but she is, isn't she father? I miss you awful, speshul at nights, cos mother thinks its good for me not to lie awake for her to come and kiss me. But you never think that and you always com, and I thank God so much for having gived you to me father. Your SIBYL."
"Father, what does 'scroopolus' mean? I want to know speshul.--SIB."
The letter finished with many of these strange irregular blots, whichOgilvie kissed tenderly, and then folded up the badly-spelt littleepistle, and slipped it into his pocket-book. Then he drew his chairforward to where his big desk stood, and, leaning his elbows on it,passed his hands through his thick, short hair. He was puzzled as hehad never been in all his life before. Should he go, or should hestay? Should he yield to temptation, and become rich and prosperous,or should he retain his honor, and face the consequences? He knewwell--he had seen them coming for a long time--the consequences he wasabout to face would not be pleasant. They spelt very little short ofruin. He suddenly opened a drawer, and took from its depths a sheaf ofaccounts which different tradespeople had sent in to his wife. Mrs.Ogilvie was hopelessly reckless and extravagant. Money in her hand waslike water; it flowed away as she touched it. Her jeweler's bill aloneamounted to thousands of pounds. If Ogilvie accepted the offer nowmade to him he might satisfy these pressing creditors, and not depriveSibyl of her chance of an income by-and-by. Sibyl! As the thought ofher face came to him, he groaned inwardly. He wished sometimes thatGod had never given him such a treasure.
"I am unworthy of my little Angel," he said to himself. Then hestarted up and began to pace the room. "And yet I would not be withouther for all the wealth in the world, for all the greatness and all thefame," he cried; "she is more to me than everything else on earth. Ifever she finds out what I really am, I believe I shall go raving mad.I must keep a straight front, must keep as clean as I can for Sibyl'ssake. O God, help me to be worthy of her!"
He read the badly-spelt, childish letter once again, and then hethrust the bills out of sight and thought of other liabilities whichhe himself had incurred, till his thoughts returned to the temptingoffer made to him.
"Shall I risk it?" he said to himself. "Shall I risk the chance of themine being really good, and go to Australia and see if it is as richas the prospectuses claim it to be. But suppose it is not? Well, inthat case I am bound to make it appear so. Five ounces of gold toevery ton; it seems _bona fide_ enough. It it is _bona fide_, whyshould not I have my share of the wealth? It is as legitimate a way ofearning money as any other," and he swerved again in the direction ofLord Grayleigh's offer.
Lord Grayleigh had given him until Wednesday to decide.
"I am sorry to seem to force your hand," that nobleman had said to himat parting, "but if you distinctly refuse we must send another man,and whoever goes must start on Saturday."
A trip to Australia, how he would enjoy it! To be quite away fromLondon and his present conventional life. The only pain was thethought of parting with Sibyl. But he would do his business quickly,and come back and clasp her in his arms, and kiss her again and lookinto her eyes and--turn round; yes, he would turn short round andchoose the right path, and be what she really thought him, a good man.In a very small degree, he would be the sort of man his child imaginedhim.
As these thoughts flashed before his mind he forgot that dinner wascooling in the dining
-room, that he himself had eaten nothing for somehours, and that a curious faintness which he had experienced once ortwice before had stolen over him. He did not like it nor quiteunderstand it. He rose, crossed the room, and was about to ring thebell when a sudden spasm of most acute pain passed like a knifethrough his chest. He was in such agony that for a moment he wasunable to stir. The sharpness of the pain soon went off, and he sankinto a chair faint and trembling. He was now well enough to ring hisbell. He did so, and the footman appeared.
"Bring me brandy, and be quick," said Ogilvie.
The man started when he saw his face. He soon returned with thestimulant, which Ogilvie drank off. The agony in his chest subsided bydegrees, and he was able to go into the dining-room and even to eat.He had never before had such terrible and severe pain, and now he washaunted by the memory of his father, who had died suddenly of acutedisease of the heart.
After dinner he went, as usual, to his club, where he met a friendwhom he liked. They chatted about many things, and the fears andapprehensions of the puzzled man dropped gradually from him. It waspast midnight when Ogilvie returned home. He had now forgotten allabout the pain in his chest. It had completely passed away. He feltas well and vigorous as ever. In the night, however, he slept badly,had tiresome dreams, and was much haunted by the thought of his child.If by any chance he were to die now! If, for instance, he died on hisway to Australia, he would leave Sibyl badly provided for. A good dealof his private means had already been swallowed up by his own and hiswife's extravagant living, and what was left of it had been settledabsolutely on his wife at the time of their marriage. Although, ofcourse, this money at her mother's death would revert to Sibyl, he hada presentiment, which he knew was founded on a firm basis, that Mrs.Ogilvie might be careless, inconsiderate--not kind, in the true senseof the word, to the little girl. If it came to be a tussle betweenSibyl's needs and her mother's fancied necessities, Ogilvie'sintuitions told him truly that Sibyl would go to the wall.
"I must do something better than that for my little daughter," thoughtthe man. "I will not go to Australia until I have decided that point.If I go, I shall make terms, and it will be for Sibyl's sake."
But again that uncomfortable, tiresome conscience of his began tospeak; and that conscience told him that if he went to Australia forthe purpose of blinding the eyes of possible shareholders in London,he would in reality be doing the very worst possible thing for hischild.
He tossed about between one temptation and another for the remainderof the night, and arose in the morning unrefreshed. As he wasdressing, however, a thought came to him which he hailed as a possiblerelief. Why not do the right thing right from the beginning; tellGrayleigh that the proposed commission to visit Australia wasaltogether distasteful to him; that he washed his hands of the greatnew syndicate; that they might sweep in their gold, but he would havenothing to say to it? At the same time he might insure his life forten thousand pounds. It would be a heavy interest to pay, no doubt,and they would probably have to live in a smaller house, and he andhis wife would have to put down their expenses in various ways, but hewould have the comfort of knowing that whatever happened Sibyl wouldnot be without means of subsistence.
"When I have done that, and absolutely provided for her future, Ishall have a great sense of rest," thought the man. "I will go and seeDr. Rashleigh, of the Crown and Life Insurance Company, as soon asever I get to the City. That is a happy thought."
He smiled cheerfully to himself, ran downstairs, and ate a heartybreakfast. A letter from his wife lay upon his plate. He did not evenopen it. He thrust it into his pocket and went off to the City,telling his servant as he did so that he would be back to dinner.
As soon as he got to his office he read his letters, gave his clerksdirections, and went at once to see Dr. Rashleigh, of the InsuranceCompany.
Rashleigh happened to be one of his special friends, and he knew hishours. It was a little unusual to expect him to examine him for aninsurance without an appointment; but he believed, in view of hispossible visit to Australia, that Rashleigh would be willing tooverlook ceremony.
He arrived at the office, saw one of the clerks downstairs, heard thatRashleigh was in and would soon be disengaged, and presently was showninto the doctor's consulting room.
Rashleigh was a grey-haired man of about sixty years of age. He spenta couple of hours every day in the consulting room of the Crown andLife Insurance Company. He rose now, and extended his hand withpleasure when Ogilvie appeared.
"My dear Ogilvie, and what do you want with me? Have you at lastlistened to my entreaties that you should insure your life in afirst-class office?"
"Something of the kind," said Ogilvie, forcing a smile, for again thatagony which had come over him yesterday assailed him. He knew that hisheart was throbbing faintly, and he remembered once more that hisfather had died of heart disease. Oh, it was all nonsense; of coursehe had nothing to fear. He was a man in his prime, not much overthirty--he was all right.
Rashleigh asked him a few questions.
"I may have to go to Australia rather suddenly," said Ogilvie, "and Ishould like first to insure my life. I want to settle the money on mychild before I leave home."
"How large a sum do you propose to insure for?" asked the doctor.
"I have given the particulars to the clerk downstairs. I should liketo insure for ten thousand pounds."
"Well, I daresay that can be managed. You are an excellent client, andquite a young man. Now just let me sound your lungs, and listen toyour heart."
Ogilvie removed his necktie, unbuttoned his shirt, and placed himselfin the doctor's hands.
Dr. Rashleigh made his examination without comment, slowly andcarefully. At last it was over.
"Well?" said Ogilvie, just glancing at him. "It's all right, Isuppose."
"It is not the custom for a doctor at an insurance office to tell hispatient anything about the result of the examination," was Rashleigh'sanswer. "You'll hear all in good time."
"But there really is no time to lose, and you are an old friend. Youlook grave. If it cannot be done, of course it cannot, but I shouldlike to know."
"When do you propose to go to Australia?"
"I may not go at all. In fact if----" Ogilvie suddenly leaned againstthe table. Once again he felt faint and giddy. "If this is all right,I shall probably not go."
"But suppose it is not all right?"
"Then I sail on Saturday."
"I may as well tell you the truth," said Rashleigh; "you are a braveman. My dear fellow, the office cannot insure you."
"What do you mean?"
"Heart," said Rashleigh.
"Heart! Mine? Not affected?"
"Yes."
"Seriously?"
"It is hard to answer that question. The heart is a strange organ, andcapable of a vast amount of resuscitation; nevertheless, in your casethe symptoms are grave; the aortic valve is affected. It behooves youto be very careful."
"Does this mean that I----" Ogilvie dropped into a chair. "Rashleigh,"he said suddenly, "I had a horrible attack last night. I forgot itthis morning when I came to you, but it was horrible while it lasted.I thought myself, during those moments of torture, within ameasurable--a very measurable distance of the end."
"Describe your sensations," said Rashleigh.
Ogilvie did so.
"Now, my dear fellow, I have a word to say. This insurance cannot bedone. But, for yourself, you must avoid excitement. I should like toprescribe a course of living for you. I have studied the heartextensively."
"Will nothing put me straight? Cure me, I mean?"
"I fear not."
"Well, good-by, Rashleigh; I will call round to see you some evening."
"Do. I should like you to have the advice of a specialist, Anderson,the greatest man in town on the heart."
"But where is the use? If you cannot cure me, he cannot."
"You may live for years and years, and die of something else in theend."
"Just what was
said to my father, who did not live for years andyears," answered the man. "I won't keep you any longer, Rashleigh."
He left the office and went down into the street. As he crossed thePoultry and got once more into the neighborhood of his own office, oneword kept ringing in his ears, "Doomed."
He arrived at his office and saw his head clerk.
"You don't look well, Mr. Ogilvie."
"Never mind about my looks, Harrison," replied Ogilvie. "I have agreat deal to do, and need your best attention."
"Certainly, sir; but, all the same, you don't look well."
"Looks are nothing," replied Ogilvie. "I shall soon be all right.Harrison, I am off to Australia on Saturday."
