by L. T. Meade
CHAPTER XI.
About this time Mrs. Ogilvie was subjected to a somewhat severe formof temptation. It had been one of the biggest dreams of her life topossess a country place. She had never been satisfied with the factthat she and her husband must live in town except when they went tolodgings at the seaside, or were on visits to their friends. Shewanted to have their own country place to go to just when she pleased,a place where she could invite her friends whenever the whim seizedher. In an evil moment, almost immediately after Ogilvie had gone toAustralia, she had visited a house agent and told him some of herdesires.
"My husband is not prepared to buy a place now," she said inconclusion, "but he soon will be in a position to do so, and I wantyou to look round for me and tell me if anything nice happens to comeinto the market."
The agent had replied that he would be sure to let his client know ifanything suitable came his way. Very soon places, apparently quite toMrs. Ogilvie's heart, did come in the agent's way, and then somehow,in some fashion, other house agents got wind of Mrs. Ogilvie'sdesire, and now scarcely a post came that did not bring her mosttempting prospectuses with regard to country places. There was one inparticular which so exactly pleased her that she became quite_distrait_ and restless except when she was talking of it. She went tosee this special place several times. It was on the Thames just aboveRichmond. The grounds sloped down to the water. The house itself wasbuilt in a low, rambling, eccentric fashion. It covered a considerableextent of ground; there were several gardens, and they were all nicelykept and were bright with flowers, and had many overhanging trees. Thehouse itself, too, had every modern comfort. There were many bedroomsand several fine reception rooms, and there were tennis and croquetlawns in the grounds, all smooth as velvet and perfectly level. Therewere also kitchen-gardens, and some acres of land, as yet undevoted toany special purpose, at the back of the house. It was just the sort ofplace which a man who was in a nice position in society might be gladto own. Its late owner had given it the somewhat eccentric title ofSilverbel, and certainly the place was as bright and charming as itsname.
This desirable little property was to be obtained, with itssurrounding acres, for the modest sum of twenty thousand pounds, andMrs. Ogilvie was so fascinated by the thought of being mistress ofSilverbel, on the lovely winding River Thames, that she wrote to herhusband on the subject.
"It is the very best place of its kind in the market," she wrote. "Itwas sold to its present owner for thirty thousand pounds, but he isobliged to live abroad and is anxious to sell it, and would give itfor twenty thousand. I want you, when you receive this, to wire to meto carry on negotiations in your absence. I have already consulted ourlawyer, Mr. Acland. He says the house is drained, and the air of theplace would be just the kind to suit Sibyl. She would enjoy so muchher row on the river, and all our friends would like it. With themoney you must now have at your disposal you can surely gratify mewith regard to Silverbel."
Mrs. Ogilvie had, of course, not yet received any answer to herletter, but she visited Silverbel twice a week, and took Sibyl also tosee the beautiful place.
"It will be yours when father comes home," she said to the child.
Sibyl skipped about madly.
"It's just too 'licious!" she said. "Is this one of the things Godgives us because we are rich? Isn't it kind of Lord Jesus to make usrich? Don't you love Him very, very much, mother?"
Mrs. Ogilvie always turned aside when Sibyl spoke to her about herlove for the Lord Jesus. Not that she considered herself by any meansan irreligious woman. She went to church always once, and sometimestwice on Sunday. She subscribed to any number of charities, and as thelittle girl now spoke her eyes became full of a soft light.
"We can have a bazaar here," she said, "a bazaar for the Home forIncurables at Watleigh. Lady Severn was talking to me about it lastnight, and said how terribly it needed funds. Sibyl, when father comesback we will have a great big bazaar here at lovely Silverbel, and amarquee on the lawn, and we will ask all the most charitable people inLondon to take stalls; some of the big-wigs, you know."
"Big-wigs?" said Sibyl, "what are they?"
"People, my dear child, who are high up in the social scale."
"I don't understand, mother," answered Sibyl. "Oh, do look at thisrose, did you ever see such a perfect beauty? May I pick it, mother?It is just perfect, isn't it, not quite full out and yet not a bud.I'd like very much to send it to my ownest father."
"Silly child! Yes, of course you may pick it, but it will be dead longbefore it reaches him."
"It's heart won't be dead," said Sibyl. She did not know why she madethe latter remark. She often did say things which she but halfunderstood. She carefully picked the rose and fastened it into thefront of her white dress. When she returned to town that evening sheput the rose in water and looked at it with affectionate interest.
"What a pretty flower! Where did my darling get it?" said nurse.
"At Silverbel, the beautiful, beautiful place that father is going tobuy when he is rich. You can't think how good mother is growing,nursie; she is getting better and better every day."
"H'm!" said nurse.
"Why do you make those sort of noises when I speak of my mother? Idon't like it," said the child. "But I must tell you about Silverbel.Mother says it is practicalically ours now. I don't quite know whatshe means by practicalically, but I suppose she means that it isalmost our place. Anyhow, when my dearest rich father comes back itwill be ours, and we are going to make poor Mr. Holman quite rich, andyou, darling nursie, quite rich, and--and others quite rich. We aregoing to have a great big bazaar at Silverbel, and the _big-wigs_ arecoming to it. Isn't it a funny word! perhaps you don't know whatbig-wigs are, but I do."
Nurse laughed.
"Eat your supper and go to bed, Miss Sibyl. You are staying up a greatdeal too late, and you are learning things you had better know nothingabout."
Meanwhile Mrs. Ogilvie downstairs was having a consultation with herlawyer.
"I don't want to lose the place," she said. "My husband is safe to besatisfied with my decision."
"If you have really made up your mind to pay twenty thousand poundsfor the place, and I cannot say that I think it at all dear," repliedthe lawyer, "I have no objection to lending you a couple of thousandpounds to pay a deposit. You need not complete the purchase for atleast three months, and I have not the slightest doubt I can furtherarrange that you may go into possession, say--well, any time you likeafter the deposit money is paid."
"Can you really?" said Mrs. Ogilvie, her eyes growing dark and almostpassionate in their eagerness.
"At the worst it could be taken off your hands," he answered; "butdoubtless, from what you tell me, Ogilvie will be well able tocomplete the thing; only remember, pray remember, Mrs. Ogilvie, thatthis is rather a big matter, and if by any chance your husband doesnot find the Lombard Deeps all that Lord Grayleigh expects"--he pausedand looked thoughtful. "I can lend you the money if you wish it," hesaid then abruptly.
"The money to enable me to pay a deposit?" she said.
"Yes; two thousand pounds; I believe the owners will take that oncondition that the purchase is completed, say, in October."
"My husband will be back by then. I have a great mind to agree," shesaid. She almost trembled in her eagerness. After a moment's pause shespoke.
"I will accept your offer, Mr. Acland. I don't know where to go inAugust and September, and Silverbel will be the very place. Mr.Ogilvie will thank you most heartily for your generous trust in usboth when he comes back."
"I have plenty of funds to meet this loan," thought the lawyer. "I amsafe so far." Aloud he said, "Then I will go and see the ownersto-morrow."
"This clinches the matter," said Mrs. Ogilvie, "I will begin orderingthe furniture immediately."
The lawyer and the lady had a little further conversation, and thenMrs. Ogilvie dressed and went out to dine, and told many of herfriends of her golden dreams.
"A place in the country, a place li
ke Silverbel, has always been thelonging of my life," she said, and she looked pathetic and almostethereal, as she spoke, and as though nothing pleased her more than aramble through country lanes with buttercups and daisies within reach.
On the following Sunday, Rochester happened to lunch with Mrs. Ogilvieand her little daughter. Mrs. Ogilvie talked during the entire meal ofthe beautiful place which was soon to be hers.
"You shall come with Sibyl and me to see it to-morrow," she said. "Iwill ask Lady Helen to come, too. I will send her a note by messenger.We might meet at Victoria Station at eleven o'clock, and go toSilverbel and have lunch at the little inn on the river."
Rochester agreed somewhat eagerly. His eyes brightened. He looked atSibyl, who gave him a meaning, affectionate, sympathetic glance. Shewould enjoy very much seeing the lovers wandering through beautifulSilverbel side by side.
"It's the most darling, lovely place," she said; "nobody knows howbeautiful it is. I do hope it will soon be ours."
"When our ship comes in, it will be ours," said Mrs. Ogilvie, and shelaughed merrily and looked full of happiness.
When the servants left the room, however, Rochester bent forward andsaid something to Mrs. Ogilvie which did not please that good ladyquite so much.
"Have you heard the rumors with regard to the Lombard Deeps GoldMine?" he asked.
"What rumors?" Mrs. Ogilvie looked anxious. "I know nothing whateverabout business," she said, testily, "I leave all that absolutely to myhusband. I know that he considers the mine an excellent one, but hisfull report cannot yet have reached England."
"Of course it has not. Ogilvie's report in full cannot come to handfor another six weeks. I allude now to a paragraph in one of the greatfinancial papers, in which the mine is somewhat depreciated, the goldbeing said to be much less to the ton than was originally supposed,and the strata somewhat shallow, and terminating abruptly. Doubtlessthere is no truth in it."
"Not a word, not a word," said Mrs. Ogilvie; "but I make a point ofbeing absolutely ignorant with regard to gold mines. I consider itpositively wrong of a woman to mix herself up in such masculinematters. All the sweet femininity of character must depart if suchknowledge is carried to any extent."
"Lady Helen knows about all these sort of things, and yet I think sheis quite feminine," said Rochester; and then he colored faintly andlooked at Sibyl, whose eyes danced with fun.
Mrs. Ogilvie slowly rose from the table.
"You will find cigars in that box," she said. "No, Sibyl, you are notto stay with Mr. Rochester; come to the drawing-room with me."
"Oh, do let her stay," earnestly pleaded the young man, "she has oftensat with me while I smoked before."
"Well, as you please, but don't spoil her," said the mother. She leftthe room, and Sibyl curled herself up luxuriously in a deep armchairnear Mr. Rochester.
"I have a lot of things to ask you," she said; "I am not going to belike my ownest mother, I am going to be like Lady Helen. I want tounderstand about the gold mine. I want to understand why, if you giveyour money to a certain thing, you get back little bits of gold. Canyou make the gold into sovereigns, is that what happens?"
"It is extremely difficult for me to explain," said Rochester, "but Ithink the matter lies in a nutshell. If your father gives a goodreport of the mine there will be a great deal of money subscribed, asit is called, by different people."
"What's subscribed?"
"Well, given. You know what it means when people ask your mother tosubscribe to a charity?"
"Oh, yes, I know quite well; and Mr. and Mrs. Holman, they maysubscribe, may they?"
"Yes, whoever they may be. I don't know Mr. and Mrs. Holman, but ofcourse they may intend to subscribe, and other people will do thesame, and if we give, say, a hundred pounds we shall get back perhapsone hundred and fifty, perhaps two hundred."
"Oh, that's very nice," said Sibyl; "I seem to understand, and yet Idon't understand."
"You understand enough, my dear little girl, quite enough. Don'tpuzzle your poor little brain. Your mother is right, these are mattersfor men."
"And you are quite certain that my father will say that the beautifulmine is full of gold?" said Sibyl.
"He will say it if the gold is there."
"And if it is not?"
"Then he will tell the truth."
"Of course," said Sibyl, proudly. "My father couldn't tell a lie if hewas even to try. It would be impossible, wouldn't it, Mr. Rochester?"
"I should say quite impossible," replied Rochester firmly.
"You are awfully nice, you know," she said; "you are nice enough evenfor Lady Helen. I do hope father will find the mine full up to thebrim with gold. Such a lot of people will be happy then."
"So they will," replied Rochester.
"And darlingest mother can have the beautiful place. Hasn't the newplace got a lovely name--Silverbel?"
"It sounds very pretty, Sibyl."
"And you will come to-morrow and see it, won't you?"
"Yes."
"And you will bring Lady Helen?"
"Your mother will bring Lady Helen."
"It's all the same," replied Sibyl. "Oh, I am so glad."
She talked a little longer, and then went upstairs.
Miss Winstead often spent Sunday with her friends. She was not in theschoolroom now as Sibyl entered. Sibyl thought this was a goldenopportunity to write to her father. She sat down and prepared to writea letter. This was always a somewhat laborious task. Her thoughtsflowed freely enough, but her hand could not wield the pen quite quickenough for the eager thoughts, nor was her spelling perfect, nor herwritten thoughts quite so much to the point as her spoken ones.Nevertheless, it was full time for her father to hear from her, andshe had a great deal to say. She took a sheet of paper, dipped her penin the ink, and began:
"DARLINGIST FATHER,--Yesterday I picked a rose at Silverbel, the place that mother wants us to have when you com bak rich. Here's the rose for you. Pwaps it will be withered, father, but its hart will be alive. Kiss it and think of Sibyl. It's hart is like my hart, and my hart thinks of you morning, noon, and night, evry night, father, and evry morning, and allways, allways during the hole of the day. It's most portant, father, that you should come back rich. It's most solum nesesarey. I do so hope the mine will be full up to the brim with gold, for if it is a lot of people here will be made happy. Have you found the mine yet, father, and is it ful to the brim of gold? You don't know how portant it is. It's cos of Mr. and Mrs. Holman, father, and their dusty broken toys, and cos of nursie and her spectakles, and cos of one who wants to marry another one, and I mustn't tell names, and cos of the big-wigs, father. Oh, it is portant.
"Your lovin "SIBYL."
"He'll understand," thought Sibyl; "he's wonderful for seeing rightthrough a thing, and he'll quite know what I mean by the 'heart of therose,'" and she kissed the rose passionately and put it inside theletter, and nurse directed the letter for her, and it was dropped intothe pillar-box that same night.
The letter was not read by the one it was intended for until--but thatrefers to another part of the story.