But now the guests having gone, even Lady Helen Douglas and Lord Grayleigh having left the house, Ogilvie knew that he must act.
On the morning of the third day after his return Mrs. Ogilvie entered Sibyl’s room. She came in quietly looking pale and at the same time jubilant. The result of the bazaar was a large check which was to be sent off that day to the Home for Incurables at Watleigh. Mrs. Ogilvie felt herself a very good and charitable woman indeed. She wore her very prettiest dress and had smiles in her dark eyes.
“Oh! my ownest darling mother, how sweet you look!” said little Sibyl. “Come and kiss me, darling mother.”
Mrs. Ogilvie had to bend forward to catch the failing voice. She asked the child what she said. Sibyl feebly repeated her words.
“Don’t tire her,” said Ogilvie; “if you cannot hear, be satisfied to guess. The child wishes you to kiss her.”
Mrs. Ogilvie turned on her husband a look of reproach. There was an expression in her eyes which seemed to say: “And you think that I, a mother, do not understand my own child.” But Ogilvie would not meet his wife’s eyes. He walked to one of the windows and looked out. The little, white couch had been moved a trifle out of the window now that the weather was getting chilly, and a screen was put up to protect the child from any draught.
Ogilvie stood and looked across the garden. Where the marquee had stood the grass was already turning yellow, there were wisps of straw about; the scene without seemed to him to be full with desolation. Suddenly he turned, walked to the fireplace, and stirred the fire into a blaze. At that moment Miss Winstead entered the room.
“Miss Winstead,” said Ogilvie, “will you sit with Sibyl for a short time? Mildred, I should like a word with you alone.”
His voice was cheerful, but quite firm. He went up to Sibyl and kissed her.
“I shall soon be back, my little love,” he said, and she kissed him and smiled, and watched both parents as they went out of the room.