Daddy's Girl Part 18

Mother's way is the goodest for me, p'waps. Don't you think mother's way is the goodest for me, Mr. Rochester?"

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

"Seems to me," said Sibyl, "I'm always looking for Lady Helen when I'm with 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 to tell stories I ever comed across in all my borned days. She tells every sort of story about giants and fairies and adventures, and stories of little girls just like me. Does she tell you stories about men 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, but I will ask her to do so."

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

So Sibyl and Rochester hunted all over the place for Lady Helen, and when they found her not, for she had gone to the nearest village on a commission with one of the children, Rochester's face looked somewhat grave, and his answers to the child were a little _distrait_. Sibyl said 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 long run."

"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 so yesterday. I heard her say so to Hortense. Hortense was brus.h.i.+ng her hair, and mother said, 'It would be a good match on the whole for Lady Helen, 'cos she is as poor as a church mouse, and Jim Rochester has money.' Is my darling Lady Helen as poor as a church mouse, and have you 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 her marry you, I see it in your eyes; you don't know how you look when you look at her, oh--ever so eager, same as I look when father's in the room and he is not talking to me. I hope you will marry her, more especial if she's as poor as a church mouse. I never knew why mice were poor, nor why mother said it, but she did. Oh, and there is mother, I must fly to her; good-by--good-by."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I did."

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

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

"Oh, I never go to school," said Sibyl in a sorrowful voice. "I have a Miss 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 she has to stay. She doesn't suit me a bit, but she wants the money. It's all right, isn't it?"

"So it seems, little girl; and now here is the carriage, and the pony has gone off to London already, and will be ready to take you on his back 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 my ownest pony. Good-by, Lord Grayleigh. I like you very much. Say good-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 was sorry at seeing the last of her bright little face, and many conjectures went forth with regard to the trouble that was before the child when she got to London. One and all thought that Ogilvie had behaved cruelly, and that his wife was somewhat silly to have yielded to him.

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

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

The other people in the carriage consisted of a very old gentleman and a small boy of Sibyl's own age. The small boy smiled at Sibyl and she smiled back, and if her mother had permitted it would have chatted to him in a moment of her hopes and longings; but, when mother put on that look, Sibyl knew that she must restrain her emotions, and she sat back in her seat, and thought about the children who bore the yoke in their youth, and how good it was for them, and how rapidly she was growing 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 for the last few days."

"Oh!" said the child, "oh!"

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

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

"Don't worry me, Sibyl, you know my views. I want you to be just a sensible, good child, without any of those high-flown notions. When we return to town you must make up for your long holiday. You must do your 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 silly over that pony; I doubt whether it is wise for you to have it."

"Oh, mother, he did say he would buy everything--the pony, the saddle, the habit, and he would 'ford the food, too. You have not got to 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 hear Sibyl's distressed voice, and the little boy stared out of the window and 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 a sorrowful sigh.

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

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

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

"No, sit still, you do fidget so."