e cried; "she is more to me than everything else on earth. If
ever she finds out what I really am, I believe I shall go raving mad.
I must keep a straight front, must keep as clean as I can for Sibyl's
sake. O God, help me to be worthy of her!"

He read the badly-spelt, childish letter once again, and then he
thrust the bills out of sight and thought of other liabilities which
he himself had incurred, till his thoughts returned to the tempting
offer made to him.

"Shall I risk it?" he said to himself. "Shall I risk the chance of the
mine being really good, and go to Australia and see if it is as rich
as the prospectuses claim it to be. But suppose it is not? Well, in
that case I am bound to make it appear so. Five ounces of gold to
every ton; it seems _bona fide_ enough. It it is _bona fide_, why
should not I have my share of the wealth? It is as legitimate a way of
earning money as any other," and he swerved again in the direction of
Lord Grayleigh's offer.

Lord Grayleigh had given him until Wednesday to decide.

"I am sorry to seem to force your hand," that nobleman had said to him
at parting, "but if you distinctly refuse we must send another man,
and whoever goes must start on Saturday."

A trip to Australia, how he would enjoy it! To be quite away from
London and his present conventional life. The only pain was the
thought of parting with Sibyl. But he would do his business quickly,
and come back and clasp her in his arms, and kiss her again and look
into her eyes and--turn round; yes, he would turn short round and
choose the right path, and be what she really thought him, a good man.
In a very small degree, he would be the sort of man his child imagined
him.

As these thoughts flashed before his mind he forgot that dinner was
cooling in the dining-room, that he himself had eaten nothing for some
hours, and that a curious faintness which he had experienced once or
twice before had stolen over him. He did not like it nor quite
understand it. He rose, crossed the room, and was about to ring the
bell when a sudden spasm of most acute pain passed like a knife
through his chest. He was in such agony that for a moment he was
unable to stir. The sharpness of the pain soon went off, and he sank
into a chair faint and trembling. He was now well enough to ring his
bell. He did so, and the footman appeared.

"Bring me brandy, and be quick," said Ogilvie.

The man started when he saw his face. He soon returned with