ay I speak to you?" he said. He had the courteous manner to her
which he did not vouch-safe to many of his gay lady acquaintances.

She ran to his side at once.

"Don't you want to send your father a letter by this post?"

"Yes, of course; is there time?"

"I will make time; go into the house and write to him."

"But why?"

"He would like to hear from you."

"Do you want me to say anything special?"

"Nothing special; write to him from your heart, that is all." And then
Lord Grayleigh turned away in the direction of his stables. He ordered
the groom to saddle his favorite horse, and was soon careering across
country. Sibyl's letter to her father was short, badly spelt, and
brimful of love. Mrs. Ogilvie's was also short, and brimful of
worldliness.

The two letters, each as wide as the poles apart in spirit and in
intention, met in the post-box, and were each carried as rapidly as
mail trains could take them to the metropolis.

On the next morning these letters lay beside Philip Ogilvie's plate at
breakfast. Sibyl's was well blotted and sealed with her favorite
violet seal. Mrs. Ogilvie's was trim, neat, and without a blemish.
Ogilvie read them both, first the mother's, then the child's. Sibyl's
was almost all kisses: hardly any words, just blots and kisses.
Ogilvie did not press his lips to the kisses this time. He read the
letter quickly, thrust it into his pocket, and once more turned his
attention to what his wife had said. He smiled sarcastically as he
read. The evening before he had written Lord Grayleigh accepting the
proffered engagement. The die was cast.

CHAPTER VII.

The following letter reached Philip Ogilvie late that same evening:--

MY DEAR OGILVIE,

Your decision is naturally all that can be desired, and I
only hope you may never live to regret it. I have, most
unfortunately, given my ankle a bad sprain. I had a fall
yesterday when out riding, and am obliged to lie up for a
day or two. There is much that I should wish to talk over
with you before you go to Queensland. Can you come down here
to-morrow by the first train? I will not detain you an hour
longer than I can help. All other arrangements are in the
hands of my agents, Messrs. Spielmann & Co.

Yours sincerely,
GRAYLEIGH.

Ogilvie read this letter quickly. He knit his brow as he did so. It
annoyed him a good deal.

"I did not want to