“Silly child!” he answered. “But there, Sylvia, I do trust you. And, my dear little girl, know this, that you are the great—the very greatest—comfort of my life. I will come in; it is somewhat chilly this evening.”
Sylvia rushed before her father into his sitting-room, dashed up to the fire, flung on some bits of wood and what scraps of coal were left in the coal-hod, thrust in a torn newspaper, set a match to the fire she had hastily laid, and before Mr. Leeson strolled languidly into the room, a cheerful fire was crackling and blazing up the chimney.
“How extravagant——” he began, but when he saw Sylvia’s pretty face as she knelt on the hearth the words were arrested on his lips.
“The child is very like her mother, and her mother was the most beautiful woman on earth when I married her,” he thought. “Poor little Sylvia! I wonder will she have a happier fate!”
He sat down by the fire. The girl knelt by him, took his cold hands, and rubbed them softly. Her heart was full; there were tears in her eyes.
CHAPTER XVII.—THE FALL IN THE SNOW.
The next morning, when the meager breakfast which Mr. Leeson and his daughter enjoyed together had come to an end, Sylvia ran off to find Jasper. She had stayed with her father during most of the preceding evening, and although she had gone as usual to drink her chocolate and eat her bread before going to bed, she had said very little to Jasper. But she wanted to speak to her this morning, for she had thoughts in the night, and those thoughts were driving her to decisive action. Jasper was standing in the kitchen. She had made up the fire with the smokeless coal, and it was burning slowly but steadily. A little, plump chicken lay on the table; a small piece of bacon was close at hand. There was also a pile of large and mealy-looking potatoes and some green vegetables.
“Our dinner for to-day,” said Jasper briefly.
“Oh Jasper!” answered the girl—“oh, if only father could have some of that chicken! Do you know, I do not think he is at all well; he looked so cold and feeble last night. He really is starving himself—very much as I starved myself before you came; but he is old and cannot bear it quite so well. What am I to do to keep him alive?”
Jasper looked full at Sylvia.