Daddy's Girl. Meade L. T.

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      Sibyl’s conduct was exemplary at dessert. She was quiet, she was modest, she was extremely polite. When spoken to she answered in the most correct manner. When guests smiled at her, she gave them a set smile in return. She accepted just that portion of the dessert which her mother most wished her to eat, eschewing unwholesome sweets, and partaking mostly of grapes. Especially was she polite to Lord Grayleigh, who called her to his side, and even put his arm round her waist. He wondered afterwards why she shivered when he did this. But she stood upright as a dart, and looked him full in the face with those extraordinary eyes of hers.

      At last the children’s hour, as it was called, came to an end, and the four 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 bed now.”

      “Will you come and see me, Mumsy – mother, I mean – before you go to bed?”

      “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 beautiful child,” he added. “I congratulate you on having such a charming daughter.”

      “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 I was alluding to now was her insane wish that I should go and say good-night to her. Her father spoils that child dreadfully. He insists on her staying up to our late dinner, which in itself is quite against all my principles, and then will go up to her room every evening when he happens to be at home. She lies awake for him at night, and they talk 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 Very bad, is it not; quite out of date.”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 it seems to me it has good in it.” As he spoke he thought again of the eager little face, the pathetic soft eyes, the pleading in the voice. Until within this last half-hour he had not known of Sibyl’s existence; but from this instant she was to come into his heart and bear fruit.

      Meanwhile the child went straight to her room.

      “Won’t you come to the schoolroom now?” asked Gus in a tone of remonstrance.

      “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 she pleased. She allowed the girls to kiss her, and she shook hands with Gus, and felt grown-up, and, on the whole, notwithstanding the unsatisfied feeling at her heart, rather pleased with herself. She entered the room she called the nursery, and it looked cheerful and bright. Old nurse had had the fire lit, and was sitting by it. A kettle steamed on the hob, and nurse’s cup and saucer and teapot, and some bread and butter and cakes, were spread on the table. But as Sibyl came in the sense of satisfaction which she had felt for a moment or two dropped away from her like a mantle, and she only knew that 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 for any religious tendency, “to be sure, my darling,” she answered. “I never go from home without my precious Bible. It is the one my mother gave 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 placed reverently in Sibyl’s hands.

      “Now, my little darling,” said nurse, “you look quite white. You’ll just 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 I will go to bed.” She knitted her brows and turned the pages in a puzzled, anxious way.

      “What’s fretting you, dear? I know the Bible, so to speak, from end to end. Can old nursie help you in any way?”

      “I know the verse is somewhere, but I cannot find the place. I remember 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 of St. James, fourth chapter, sixth verse. I learned the whole of the Epistle for my mother when I was young, and I have never forgotten a word of it. Here it is, dear.”

      “But what are you fretting your head over that verse for?” asked the puzzled old woman; “there’s some that I could find for you a deal more suitable 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 governesses and all. I heard its meaning explained once very clear, and that was how it was put.”

      “There is not a bit about nurses and governesses in the Bible,” said Sibyl, who had no idea of being imposed upon, although she was in trouble. “Never mind that other verse now, nursie, it’s not that I’m thinking 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 humblest woman in all the world?”

      “Oh, my goodness me, no!” exclaimed the woman under her breath. “I wouldn’t remark it, my dear,” she said aloud.

      “That’s ’cos you know so very little. You can’t never guess what my ownest mother said to me to-day, and I’m not going to tell you, only that verse comforts me, and I understand now.”

      Sibyl got up and asked nurse to take off her pink frock. She felt quite cheerful and happy again. She knelt down in her white nightdress and said her prayers. She always prayed for her father and mother in a peculiar way. She never asked God to give them anything, they had already got all that heart could wish. They were beautiful in person, they were lovely in character, they were perfect in soul. She could only thank God for them. So she thanked God now as usual.

      “Thank You, Jesus, for giving me father and mother,” said Sibyl, “and in especial for making my mother just so truly perfect that she is humble. She does not like me to think too much of her. It is because she is humble, and You give grace to the humble. It is a great comfort to me, Jesus, to know that, because I could not quite understand my mother afore dinner. Good-night, Jesus, I am going to sleep now; I am quite 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 had a rather important interview with Philip Ogilvie.

      “I failed to understand your letter,” he СКАЧАТЬ