“Dare I leave him to-morrow?” she said to herself. “He may be very weak after this; and yet—and yet I cannot give up my great, great fun. My lovely dress, too, ready and all! Oh! I must go. I am sure he will be all right in the morning.”
Presently, much to Sylvia’s relief, Mr. Leeson suggested that he should sleep on the sofa, in the neighborhood of the big fire.
“For you have been so reckless, my dear little girl,” he said, “that really you have provided a fire to last for hours and hours. It would be a sad pity to waste it; I think, therefore, that I shall spend the night on this sofa, well wrapped up, enjoying the heat.”
“Nothing could be better, father,” said Sylvia, “except a big, very big, fire in your own room, and you in your own bed well warmed with hot bottles.”
“We should soon be in the workhouse,” was Mr. Leeson’s rejoinder. “No, no; I will enjoy the fire here now that you have been so extravagant; and you had better go to bed if you have had your supper.”
Sylvia had had no supper, but Mr. Leeson was far too self-absorbed to notice that fact. Presently she left him, and he lay on the sofa, blinking into the fire, and occasionally half-dozing. After a time he dropped off to sleep, and the young girl, who stole in to look at him, went out with a satisfied expression on her face.
“He is quite well again,” she said to Jasper, “and he is sleeping sweetly.
“Now, look here,” said Jasper. “What is fretting you?”
“I don’t think I ought to leave him to-morrow.”
“But I shall be here. I will manage to let him have his meals comfortable without his knowing it. Do you suppose I have not done more difficult things than that in my day? Now, my love, you go to bed and sleep sound, and I will have a plan all mature to give you your happy day with an undisturbed conscience in the morning.”