Sibyl skipped lightly out of the room. She ran across the sunny, radiant garden, and presently found herself in a sort of wilderness which she had appropriated, and where she played at all sorts of solitary games. In that wilderness she imagined herself at times a lonely traveler, at other times a merchant carrying goodly pearls, at other times a bandit engaged in feats of plunder. All possible scenes in history or imagination that she understood did the child try to enact in the wilderness. But she went there now with no intention of posing in any imaginary part. She went there because her heart was full.
“Oh, Lord Jesus, it is so beautiful of you,” she said, and she looked up as she spoke full at the blue sky. “I can scarcely believe that my ownest father will very soon be back again; it is quite too beautiful.”
A few days after this, and toward the end of the first week in August, Sibyl was one day playing as usual in the grounds when the sound of carriage wheels attracted her attention. She ran down to see who was arriving, and a shout of delight came from her when she saw Lord Grayleigh coming down the drive. He called the coachman to stop and put out his head.
“Jump into the carriage, Sib, I have not seen you for some time. When are you going to pay me another visit at Grayleigh Manor?”
“Oh, some time, but not at present,” replied Sibyl. “I am too happy with mother here to think of going away. Isn’t Silverbel sweet, Lord Grayleigh?”
“Charming,” replied Grayleigh. “Is your mother in, little woman?”
“I think so. She is very incited about the bazaar. Are you coming to the bazaar?”
“I don’t know, I will tell you presently.”
Sibyl laid her little hand in Lord Grayleigh’s. He gave it a squeeze, and she clasped it confidingly.
“Do you know that I am so monstrous happy I scarcely know what to do,” she said.