“Oh, I am glad to see you,” she said. “Have you come to see me, or to see mother?”
“I am very glad to see you,” replied the young man; “but I did call to see your mother.”
“Well, come to the drawing-room, I’ll entertain you till mother comes. Go upstairs, please, Watson, and tell mother that Mr. Rochester is here. Be sure you say Mr. Rochester—nice Mr. Rochester.”
Watson smiled, as he often did when Sibyl addressed him, and nice Mr. Rochester and the little girl disappeared into the drawing-room.
Sibyl shut the door, took his hand, and looked earnestly into his face.
“Well?” she said.
“Why do you say that?” he asked, in some confusion.
“I was only wondering if Lady Helen had done it.”
“Really, Sibyl, you say very queer things,” answered Rochester. He sat down on a chair.
“Oh, you know you are awfully fond of her, and you want her to marry you, and I want her to marry you because I like you. You are very nice, very nice indeed, and you are rich, you know. Mother has been ’splaining to me about rich people. It’s most ’portant that everybody should be rich, isn’t it, Mr. Rochester? It’s the only way to be truly, truly happy, isn’t it?”