Daddy's Girl Part 17

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

"I thought--I thought," she began; "I thought, mother, that I heard you----" her face was strangely white, and her wide-open eyes looked almost wild in expression.

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

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

Sibyl gave her an earnest and very penetrating look. She did not glance 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 went slowly in the direction of the field where the other children were taking turns to ride bareback one of the horses, her thoughts were very puzzled.

"I wish things would be 'splained to me," she said, half aloud, and she pushed back her curls from her forehead. "There are more and more things every day want 'splaining. I certainly did hear her say it. I heard them all talking, and Lady Helen said something, and Mr.

Rochester said something, and mother said that father wished me not to know, and I was to have a letter, and then mother said 'in his absence.' Oh, what can it mean?"

The other children shouted to her from the field, but she was in no mood to join them, and just then Lord Grayleigh, who was pacing up and down 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 he could 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 this morning. Sometimes I am in a saving mood, and would not give so much as a bra.s.s farthing to anybody, but I am in the other sort of mood to-day. I am in the mood to give a little golden-haired girl called----"

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

Her attention was immediately arrested; her eyes shone and her lips smiled.

"What would you like best in the world?"

"Oh, best in the whole world? But I cannot have that, not for a week--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, and tucks me in bed, and he kisses me, and we have a cozy talk. He never misses, 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; she would if she thought it good for me."

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

"I know," said Sibyl, laughing, "a Shetland pony; oh, I do want one so badly. Mother sometimes rides in the Park, and I do so long to go with her, 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 to a 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 me about 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't look." She started back, clasped her hands, and laughed. "But when father looks next, he shall see, oh, a white heart with all the naughtiness gone."

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

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

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

[Ill.u.s.tration: "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. "I only 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 very pleasant place. There are two quite perfect, and there are others very nice; you and Mr. Rochester and Lady Helen. But, oh, Lord Grayleigh, I know now what I wanted to say. A perfect person couldn't never tell a lie, could she?"

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

"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," said Sibyl. She made a spring forward, flung her arms round his neck, and kissed him twice on his rough cheek. The next instant she had vanished out of sight and joined her companions.

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

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

"You don't know what father is," she said, looking full up into Rochester's eyes. He was standing on the terrace, and the little girl went and stood by his side. Sibyl was in her most confiding mood. She considered Lord Grayleigh, Mr. Rochester, Lady Helen, and the children were all her special friends. It was impossible to doubt their entire sympathy and absolute ability to rejoice in her joy.

"I have had a good time here," she said, "very good. Lord Grayleigh has been nice; I began by not liking him, but I like him now, and I like 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, towards the house. Everyone at Grayleigh Manor now knew that Sibyl was not to be told of her father's absence during her visit. No one approved of this course, although no one felt quite towards it with the same sense of irritation that Mrs. Ogilvie herself did. Rochester wished at this instant that Lord Grayleigh or someone else would appear. He wanted anything to cause a diversion, but Sibyl, in happy ignorance of his sentiments, 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, you know, lying down flat on my back, and mostly thinking about the angels. I do that a lot at night, I have no time in the day; I think of the angels, and Lord Jesus Christ, and heaven, and then father comes in. He opens the door soft, and he treads on tiptoe for fear I'm asleep, as if I could be! And then he kisses me, and I think in the whole of heaven there can never be an angel so good and beautiful as he is, and he says something to me which keeps me strong until the next night, when he says something else."

"But your mother?" stammered Rochester. He was about to add, "She would go to your room, would she not?" when he remembered that she herself had told him that nothing would induce her to adopt so pernicious 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 own mother thinks it is not good for me to lie awake at night and think of the angels and wait for father. She thinks that I ought to bear the yoke in my youth. Solomon, the wise King Solomon--you have heard of him, haven't you?"

Rochester nodded.

"He wrote that verse about bearing the yoke when you are young. I learnt it a week ago, and I felt it just 'splained about my mother.

It's really very brave of mother; but, you see, father thinks different, and, of course, I nat'rally like father's way best.