“And then, perhaps, I’ll see him. I want to see him soon, I have something I’d like to say.”
“What, darling?”
“Something to you and to him. I want you both to be happy. I’m tremendous anxious that you should both be happy, and I think—I wouldn’t like to say it to mother, for perhaps it will hurt her, but I do fancy that, perhaps, I’m going to have wings, too, not like dolly’s, but real ones, and if I have them I might——”
“What, darling?”
“Fly away to my beautiful Lord Jesus. You don’t know how I want to be close to Him. I used to think that if I got into father’s heart I should be quite satisfied, but even that, even that is not like being in the heart of Jesus. If my wings come I must go, Lady Helen. It will be lovely to fly up, won’t it, for perhaps some day I might get tired of lying always flat on my back. Mother doesn’t know, darling mother doesn’t guess, and I wouldn’t tell her for all the wide world, for she thinks I’m going to get quite well again, but one night, when she thought I was asleep, I heard Nursie say to Miss Winstead, ‘Poor lamb, she’ll soon want to run about again, but she never can, never.’ I shouldn’t like to be always lying down flat, should you, Lady Helen?”
“No, darling, I don’t think I should.”
“Well, there it is, you see, you wouldn’t like it either. Of course I want to see father again, but whatever happens he’ll understand. Only if my wings come I must fly off, and I want everyone to be happy before I go.”
Lady Helen had great difficulty in keeping back her tears, for Sibyl spoke in a perfectly calm, contented, almost matter-of-fact voice which brought intense conviction with it.
“So you must marry Mr. Rochester,” she continued, “for you both love each other so very much.”
“That is quite true,” replied Lady Helen.