of the child and the
woman.

"Your little girl has the highest opinion of you," he repeated; "the
very highest."

"And I wish she would not talk or think such nonsense," said Mrs.
Ogilvie, in a burst of irritation. "You know well that I am not what
Sibyl thinks me. I am an ordinary, everyday woman. I hope I am"--she
smiled--"charming."

"You are that, undoubtedly," said the nobleman, slightly bowing his
head.

"I hope I am what a man most likes in a woman, agreeable, charming,
and fairly amiable; but I am no saint, and I don't want to be. Sibyl's
attitude towards me is therefore most irritating, and I am doing my
utmost----"

"You are doing what?" said Lord Grayleigh. He rose, and stood by the
summer-house door.

"To open her eyes."

"I would not if I were you," he said, gravely; "it is not often that a
child has her faith. To shake it means a great deal."

"What are you talking about now?"

"I don't often read my Bible," he continued, "but, of course, I did as
a boy--most boys do. My mother was a good woman. I am thinking of
something said in that Holy Book."

"You are quite serious; I never knew you in this mood before."

"I must tell it to you. 'Whosoever shall offend one of these little
ones, it were better that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and
he were cast into the depths of the sea.'"

"How unpleasant," said Mrs. Ogilvie, after a pause, "and I rather fail
to see the connection. Shall we change the subject?"

"With pleasure."

"What arrangement did you make with Philip yesterday?"

"I made no absolute arrangement, but I think he will do according to
your wishes."

"Then he will assay the mine, act as the engineer to the company?"

"Precisely."

"Has he promised?"

"Not yet, but my impression is that he will do it."

"What does assaying the mine mean?"

Mrs. Ogilvie knitted her pretty dark brows, and looked as inquisitive
and childish at that moment as Sibyl herself.

"To assay a mine means to find out accurately what it contains," said
Lord Grayleigh. Once again his eyes turned away from his questioner.
He had very little respect for Mrs. Ogilvie's conscience, but he did
not want to meet anyone's gaze at that instant.

"Nevertheless," he continued, after a pause, "your husband has not
definitely promised, and it is on the cards that he may refuse."

"He will be a madman if he does," cried Mrs. Ogilvie, and she stamped
her pretty foot impatiently.

"According to Sibyl's