Sibyl looked at her with dilated, smiling eyes. “The Lombard Deeps Mine is full to the brim with gold,” she said, in an excited voice. “I know—Lord Grayleigh told me. He has it all wrote down in his pocket-book, and you and Mr. Rochester are to have your share. When you are both very, very happy you’ll think of me, won’t you?”
“I can never forget you, my dear little girl. Kiss me, now—see! the angel doll is finished.”
“Oh, isn’t it lovely?” said the child, her attention immediately distracted by this new interest. “Do take it down to mother. She’s dressing the stall where the dolls are to be sold; ask her to put the angel doll at the head of all the other dolls. Take it to mother now. I can watch from my window—do go at once.”
Lady Helen was glad of an excuse to leave the room. When she got into the corridor outside she stopped for a moment, put her handkerchief to her eyes, made a struggle to subdue her emotion, and then ran downstairs.
The great marquee was already erected on the lawn, and many of the stall-holders were arranging their stalls and giving directions to different workmen. Mrs. Ogilvie was flitting eagerly about. She was in the highest spirits, and looked young and charming.
“Sibyl sent you this,” said Lady Helen.
Mrs. Ogilvie glanced for a moment at the angel doll.
“Oh, lay it down anywhere, please,” she said in a negative tone. But Lady Helen thought of the sweet blue eyes looking down on this scene from the Chamber of Peace. She was not going to put the angel doll down anywhere.
“Please, Mrs. Ogilvie,” she said, “you must take an interest in it.” There was something in her tone which arrested even Mrs. Ogilvie’s attention.