Daddy's Girl

by L. T. Meade

  CHAPTER XVI.

  There was a pretty white room at Silverbel in which lay a patientchild. She lay flat on her back just as she had lain ever since theaccident. Her bed was moved into the wide bay window, and from thereshe could look out at the lovely garden and at the shining Thames justbeyond. From where she lay she could also see the pleasure boats andthe steamers crowded with people as they went up and down the busyriver, and it seemed to her that her thoughts followed those boatswhich went toward the sea. It seemed to her further that her spiritentered one of the great ships at the mouth of the Thames and crossedin it the boundless deep, and found a lonely man at the other side ofthe world into whose heart she crept.

  "I am quite cosy there," she said to herself, "for father's perfectheart is big enough to hold me, however much I suffer, and however sadI am."

  Not that Sibyl was sad, nor did she suffer. After the first shock shehad no pain of any sort, and there never was a more tranquil littleface than hers as it lay on its daintily frilled pillow and looked outat the shining river.

  There was no part of the beautiful house half so beautiful as the roomgiven up to her use. It might well and aptly be called the Chamber ofPeace. Indeed, Miss Winstead, who was given to sentimentalities andhad a poetic turn of mind, had called Sibyl's chamber by this title.

  From the very first the child never murmured. She who had been soactive, like a butterfly in her dancing motion, in her ceaselessgrace, lay on her couch uncomplaining. And as to pain, she hadscarcely any, and what little she had grew less day by day. The greatspecialist from London said that this was the worst symptom of thecase, and established the fact beyond doubt that the spine was fatallyinjured. It was a question of time. How long a time no one could quitetell, but the great doctors shook their heads over the child, and anurgent cablegram was sent to Ogilvie to hurry home without a moment'sdelay.

  But, though all her friends knew it, no one told Sibyl herself thatshe might never walk again nor dance over the smoothly kept lawns, normount the nameless pony, nor carry apples to Dan Scott. In herpresence people thought it their duty to be cheerful, and she wasalways cheerful herself. After the first week or so, during which shewas more or less stunned and her head felt strangely heavy, she likedto talk and laugh and ask questions. As far as her active littlebrain went there was but little difference in her, except that now hervoice was low, and sometimes it was difficult to follow the rapid,eager words. But the child's eyes were quite as clear and beautiful asever, and more than ever now there visited them that strange, far-awaylook and that quick, comprehending gaze.

  "I want nothing on earth but father, the touch of father's hand andthe look in his face," she said several times; and then invariably herown eyes would follow the steamers and the boats as they went down theriver toward the sea, and she would smile as the remembrance of thebig ships came to her.

  "Miss Winstead," she said on one of these occasions, "I go in my ownspecial big ship every night across the sea to father. I sleep infather's heart every night, that's why I don't disturb you, and whythe hours seem so short."

  Miss Winstead had long ceased to scold Sibyl, and nurse was now nevercross to the little girl, and Mrs. Ogilvie was to all appearance themost tender, devoted mother on earth. When the child had been broughtback after her accident Mrs. Ogilvie had not yet returned from town.She had meant to spend the night at the house in Belgrave Square. Anurgent message, however, summoned her, and she arrived at Silverbelabout midnight. She lost all self-control when she saw the beautifulunconscious child, and went into such violent hysterics that thedoctors had to take her from the room.

  But this state of grief passed, and she was able, as she said toherself, to crush her mother's heart in her breast and superintendeverything for Sibyl's comfort. It was Mrs. Ogilvie herself who, bythe doctor's orders, sent off the cablegram which her husband receivedat the very moment of his fall from the paths of honor. It was she whoworded it, and she thought of nothing at that moment but the child whowas dying in the beautiful house. For the time she quite forgot herdreams of wealth and of greatness and of worldly pleasure. Nay, more,she felt just then that she could give up everything if only Sibylmight be saved. Mrs. Ogilvie also blamed herself very bitterly forforgetting her promise to the child. She was indeed quite inconsolablefor several days, and at last had a nervous attack and was obliged toretire to her bed.

  There came an answering cable from Ogilvie to say that he was startingon board the _Sahara_, and would be in England as quickly as the greatliner could bring him across the ocean. But by the doctor's ordersthe news that her father was coming back to her was not told to Sibyl.

  "Something may detain him; at any rate the suspense will be bad forher," the doctors said, and as she did not fret, and seemed quitecontented with the strange fancy that she crossed the sea at night tolie in his arms, there was no need to give her any anxiety with regardto the matter.

  But as the days went on Mrs. Ogilvie's feelings, gradually but surely,underwent a sort of revulsion. For the first week she was frantic,ill, nervous, full of intense self-reproach. But during the secondweek, when Sibyl's state of health assumed a new phase, when sheceased to moan in her sleep, and to look troubled, and only lay verystill and white, Mrs. Ogilvie took it into her head that after all thedoctors had exaggerated the symptoms. The child was by no means so illas they said. She went round to her different friends and aired theseviews. When they came to see her she aired them still further.

  "Doctors are so often mistaken," she said, "I don't believe for asingle instant that the dear little thing will not be quite as well asever in a short time. I should not be the least surprised if she wereable to walk by the time Philip comes back. I do sincerely hope suchwill be the case, for Philip makes such a ridiculous fuss about her,and will go through all the apprehension and misery which nearlywrecked my mother's heart. He will believe everything those doctorshave said of the child."

  The neighbors, glad to see Mrs. Ogilvie cheerful once more, ratheragreed with her in these views, that is, all who did not go to seeSibyl. But those who went into her white room and looked at the sweetpatient's face shook their heads when they came out again. It wasthose neighbors who had not seen the child who quoted instances ofdoctors who were mistaken in their diagnoses, and Mrs. Ogilvie derivedgreat pleasure and hope from their conversation.

  Gradually, but surely, the household settled down into its new life.The Chamber of Peace in the midst of the house diffused a peacefulatmosphere everywhere else. Sibyl's weak little laugh was a sound totreasure up and remember, and her words were still full of fun, andher eyes often brimmed over with laughter. No one ever denied heranything now. She could see whoever she fancied, even to old Scott,who hobbled upstairs in his stockings, and came on tiptoe into theroom, and stood silently at the foot of the white bed.

  "I won't have the curse of the poor, I did my best," said Sibyl,looking full at the old man.

  "Yes, you did your best, dearie," he replied. His voice was husky,and he turned his head aside and looked out of the window and coughedin a discreet manner. He was shocked at the change in the radiantlittle face, but he would not allow his emotion to get the better ofhim.

  "The blessing of the poor rests on you, dear little Miss," he saidthen, "the blessing of the poor and the fatherless. It was afatherless lad you tried to comfort. God bless you for ever and ever."

  Sibyl smiled when he said this, and then she gazed full at him in thatsolemn comprehending way which often characterized her. When he wentout of the room she lay silent for a time; then she turned to nurseand said with emphasis:

  "I like old Scott, he's a very religious man."

  "That he is, darling," replied nurse.

  "Seems to me I'm getting religious too," continued Sibyl. "It's 'cosof Lord Jesus, I 'spect. He is kind to me, is Lord Jesus. He takes meto father every night."

  The days went by, and Mrs. Ogilvie, who was recovering her normalspirits hour by hour, now made up her mind that Sibyl's recovery wasmerely a ques
tion of time, that she would soon be as well as ever, andas this was the case, surely it seemed a sad pity that the bazaar,which had been postponed, should not take place.

  "The bazaar will amuse the child, besides doing a great deal of goodto others," thought Mrs. Ogilvie.

  No sooner had this idea come to her, than she found herengagement-book, and looked up several items. The bazaar had of coursebeen postponed from the original date, but it would be easy to have iton the 24th of September. The 24th was in all respects a suitabledate, and those people who had not gone abroad or to Scotland would beglad to spend a week in the beautiful country house. It was such a sadpity, thought Mrs. Ogilvie, not to use the new furniture to the bestadvantage, not to sleep in the new beds, not to make use of all theaccessories which had cost so much money, or rather which had cost somany debts, for not a scrap of the furniture was paid for, and thehouse itself was only held on sufferance.

  "It will be doing such a good work," said Mrs. Ogilvie to herself. "Ishall be not only entertaining my friends and amusing dear littleSibyl, but I shall be collecting money for an excellent charity."

  In the highest spirits she ran upstairs and burst into her littledaughter's room.

  "Oh, Mummy," said Sibyl. She smiled and said faintly, "Come and kissme, Mummy."

  Mrs. Ogilvie was all in white and looked very young and girlish andpretty. She tripped up to the child, bent over her and kissed her.

  "My little white rose," she said, "you must get some color back intoyour cheeks."

  "Oh, color don't matter," replied Sibyl. "I'm just as happy withoutit."

  "But you are quite out of pain, my little darling?"

  "Yes, Mummy."

  "And you like lying here in your pretty window?"

  "Yes, mother darling."

  "You are not weary of lying so still?"

  Sibyl laughed.

  "It is funny," she said, "I never thought I could lie so very still. Iused to get a fidgety sort of pain all down me if I stayed still morethan a minute at a time, but now I don't want to walk. My legs are tooheavy. I feel heavy all down my legs and up to the middle of my back,but that is all. See, Mummy, how nicely I can move my hands. Nursie isgoing to give me some dolls to dress."

  "What a splendid idea, Sib!" said Mrs. Ogilvie, "you shall dress somedolls for mother's bazaar."

  "Are you going to have it after all?" cried Sibyl, her eyesbrightening. "Are the big-wigs coming?"

  "Yes, pet, and you shall help me. You shall dress pretty little dollswhich the big-wigs shall buy--Lord Grayleigh and the rest."

  "I like Lord Grayleigh," replied Sibyl. "I am glad you are going tohave the bazaar, Mummy."

  Mrs. Ogilvie laughed with glee. She seated herself in a comfortablerocking chair near the window and chatted volubly. Sibyl was really awonderfully intelligent child. It was delightful to talk to her. Therewas no narrowness about Sibyl. She had quite a breadth of view and ofcomprehension for her tender years.

  "My dear little girl," said Mrs. Ogilvie, "I am so glad you like theidea. Perhaps by the day of the bazaar you will be well enough to comedownstairs and even to walk a little."

  Sibyl made no answer to this. After a moment's pause she said:

  "Do have the bazaar and let all the big-wigs come. I can watch themfrom my bed. I can look out of the window and see everything--it willbe fun."

  Soon afterward Mrs. Ogilvie left the room. She met Miss Winstead onthe stairs.

  "Miss Winstead," she said, "I have just been sitting with the child.She seems much better."

  "Do you think so?" replied Miss Winstead shortly.

  "I do. Why do you stare at me in that disapproving manner? You reallyare all most unnatural. Who should know of the health of her child ifher own mother does not? The little darling is recovering fast--Ihave just been having a most interesting talk with her. She would likeme to have the bazaar."

  "The bazaar!" echoed Miss Winstead. "Surely you don't mean to have ithere?"

  "Yes, here. The child is greatly interested. She would like me to haveit, and I am going to send out invitations at once. It will be held onthe 24th and 25th of the month."

  "I would not, if I were you," said Miss Winstead slowly. "You knowwhat the doctors have said."

  Mrs. Ogilvie first turned white, and then her face grew red and angry.

  "I don't believe a single word of what they say," she retorted withsome passion. "The child looks better every day. What the dear littlething wants is rousing. The bazaar will do her no end of good. Mark mywords, Miss Winstead, we shall have Sibyl on her feet again by the24th."

  "You forget," said Miss Winstead slowly, "the _Sahara_ is due inEngland about that date. Mr. Ogilvie will be back. He will not beprepared for--for what he has to see."

  "I know quite well that my husband will return about then, but I don'tunderstand what you mean by saying that he will not be prepared.There will be nothing but joyful tidings to give him. The child nearlyherself and the bazaar at its height. Delightful! Now pray, my goodcreature, don't croak any more; I must rush up to town thisafternoon--there is a great deal to see about."