you would arrange
to send Sibyl to a nice day-school, where she could have companions. I
have nothing to say against Miss Winstead, but I think the child would
be better, less old-fashioned, and might place us more on the pedestal
which we really ought to occupy, if she had other children to talk to
and exchange thoughts with. Try to act, my dear wife, as I would like
in this particular, I beg of you. Also when you have to let my darling
know that I am away, you will find a letter for her in my left-hand
top drawer in my study table. Give it to her, and do not ask to see
it. It is just a little private communication from her father, and for
her eyes alone. Be sure, also, you tell her that, all being well, I
hope to be back in England by the end of the summer."

Ogilvie added some more words to his letter, and Mrs. Ogilvie received
it on Saturday morning. She read it over carelessly, and then turned
to Jim Rochester who stood near. During her visit to Grayleigh Manor
she had got to know this young man very well, and to like him
extremely. He was good-looking, pleasant to talk to, well informed,
and with genial, hearty views of life. He had been well brought up,
and his principles were firm and unshaken. His notion of living was to
do right on every possible occasion, to turn from the wrong with
horror, to have faith in God, to keep religion well in view, and as
far as in him lay to love his neighbor better than himself.

Rochester, it may be frankly stated, had some time ago lost his heart
to Lady Helen Douglas, who, on her part, to all appearance returned
his affection. Nothing had yet, however, been said between the pair,
although Rochester's eyes proclaimed his secret whenever they rested
on Lady Helen's fair face.

He watched Mrs. Ogilvie now with a sudden interest as she folded up
her husband's letter.

"Well," she said, turning to him and uttering a quick sigh; "he is
off, it is a _fait accompli_. Do you know, I am relieved."

"Are you?" he answered. He looked at her almost wistfully. He himself
was sorry for Ogilvie, he did not know why. He was, of course, aware
that he was going to Queensland to assay the Lombard Deeps, for the
talk of the great new gold mine had already reached his ears. He knew
that Ogilvie, moreover, looked pale, ill at ease, and worried. He
supposed that this uneasiness and want of alacrity in carrying a very
pleasurable business to a successful issue was caused by the man's
great atta