You have been very cruel to
me, Philip, these last two days. What I have suffered, God only knows.
I have gone through the most fearful strain; I, alone, unaided by you,
have had to keep the bazaar going, to entertain our distinguished
guests, to be here, there, and everywhere, but, thank goodness, we did
collect a nice little sum for the Home for Incurables. I wonder,
Philip, when you think of your own dear little daughter, and what she
may----"

"Hush!" said the man.

Mrs. Ogilvie paused in her rapid flow of words, and looked at him with
interrogation in her eyes.

"I refuse to allow Sibyl's name to enter into this matter," he said.
"You did what you did, God knows with what motive. I don't care, and I
do not mean to inquire. The question I have now to ask is, what is the
meaning of _this_?" As he spoke he waved his hand round the room, and
then pointed to the grounds outside.

"Silverbel!" she cried; "but I wrote to you and told you the place was
in the market. I even sent you a cablegram. Oh, of course, I forgot,
you rushed away from Brisbane in a hurry. You received the other
cablegram about little Sibyl?"

"Yes, I received the other cablegram, and, as you say, I rushed home.
But why are you here? Have you taken the house for the season, or
what?"

Mrs. Ogilvie gave an excited scream, ending off in a laugh.

"Why, we have bought Silverbel," she cried; "you are, you must be
pleased. Mr. Acland lent me enough money for the first deposit, and
you have just come back in time, my dear Phil, to pay the final sum
due at the end of October, eighteen thousand pounds. Quite a trifle
compared to the fortune you must have brought back with you. Then,
of course, there is also the furniture to be paid for, but the
tradespeople are quite willing to wait. We are rich, dear Phil, and
I am so happy about it."

"Rich!" he answered. He did not say another word for a moment, then he
went slowly up to his wife, and took her hand.

"Mildred," he said slowly, "do you realize--do you at all realize the
fact that the child is dying?"

"Nonsense," she answered, starting back.

"The child is dying," repeated Ogilvie, "and when the child dies, any
motive that I ever had for amassing gold, or any of those things which
are considered essential to the worldly man's happiness, _goes out_.
After the child is taken, I have no desire to live as a wealthy man,
as a man of society, as a man of means. Life to me is reduced to the
smalle