Daddy's Girl Part 47

"Something very bad."

Sibyl shut her eyes for a minute, then she opened them and looked steadily at her father, her childish lips became slightly compressed, it was as if a world of strength suddenly entered her little frame, as though, dying as she was, she was bracing herself to endure.

"I am very sorry," she said. "I love you so much. What is it, darlingest father?"

"Let me hold your hand," he said. "It will be easier for me to tell you something then."

She gave it to him. He clasped it in both of his, bent forward, and began to speak.

"At the moment, little Sibyl, when the cablegram which told me of your accident was put into my hand, I had just done something so wicked, so terrible, that G.o.d Himself, G.o.d Almighty, rose up and smote me."

"I don't understand," said the child.

"I will explain. The cablegram told me that you were ill, very ill. I wanted to undo what I had done, but it was too late. I hurried back to you. G.o.d came with me on board the s.h.i.+p. G.o.d came, and He was angry; I had a terrible time."

"Still I do not understand," repeated Sibyl.

"Let me speak, my dear girl. I reached home, and I saw you, and then a temptation came to me. I wanted us both, you and I, to be happy together for two days. I knew that at the end of that time I must open your eyes."

"Oh, we were happy!" said the child.

"Yes, for those two days we had peace, and we were, as you say, happy.

I put away from me the thought of that which was before me, but I knew that it must come. It has come, Sibyl. The peace has been changed to storm; and now, little girl, I am in the midst of the tempest; the agony I feel in having to tell you this no words can explain."

"I wish you would try and 'splain, all the same," said Sibyl, in a weak, very weak voice.

"I will, I must; it is wrong of me to torture you."

"It's only 'cos of you yourself," she murmured.

"Listen, my darling. You have often given thoughts to the Lombard Deeps Mine?"

"Oh, yes." She raised herself a little on her pillow, and tried to speak more cheerfully. "I have thought of it, the mine full, full of gold, and all the people so happy!"

Her voice grew quite animated.

"Any special people, dearest?"

"So many," she replied. "I told Lord Grayleigh, and he put their names in his note-book. There's Mr. and Mrs. Holman, the people who keep the toy-shop; she has a hundred pounds, and she wants to buy some of the gold."

"The old pair I saw coming to see you yesterday? Are they the Holmans?

Yes, I remember they told me that was their name."

"They came, father. I love 'em so much; and there's Mr. Rochester and Lady Helen, they want to marry. It's a secret, but you may know. And nurse, she wants some of the gold, 'cos her eyes ache, and you sent a cablegram, father, and said the gold was there; it's all right."

"No, Sibyl, it is all wrong; the gold is not in the mine."

"But you sent a cablegram."

"I did."

"And you said it was there."

"I did."

She paused and looked at him; her eyes grew full of pain; the pain reached agony point.

"You said it?"

"I did worse," said the man. He stood up, folded his arms across his chest, and looked down at her. "I did worse, and to tell you is my punishment. I not only sent that cablegram, but I wrote an account of the mine, a false account, false as my false heart was, Sibyl, and I signed it with my name, for the gold I said was in the mine was not there."

"Why did you do it, father?"

"Because I was a scoundrel."

"What's that?" asked Sibyl.

"A bad man."

"No," said the child, "no, you was always my most perfect----"

"You thought so, darling; you were wrong. Even when I went to Queensland I was far from that. I could not bid you good-by before I went, because of the sin which I was about to commit. I committed the sin, I dropped away from honor, I let goodness go. I did that which could never, never, under any circ.u.mstances, be worth doing, for there is nothing worth evil, there is nothing worth sin, I see it now."

"Then you are sorry?"

"I have repented," he cried; "my G.o.d, I have repented," and he fell on his knees and covered his face. For the child's sake he kept back the sobs which rose to his throat.

Sibyl looked at the bent head, at the dark hair already sprinkled with gray. She lay quite still, there was not the slightest doubt that the shock was great. Ogilvie waited, longing, wondering if the little hand would touch his head, if the child would forgive him.

"She is so holy, so heavenly herself," he murmured; "is it possible that she can forgive? It must be a cruel shock to her."

The little, white hand did not touch him. There was complete stillness in the room. At last he raised his eyes and looked at her. She looked steadily back at him.

"And so you was never perfect?" she said.

"Never."

"And was mother never perfect?"

"Not as you think of perfection, Sibyl, but we need not talk of her now. I have sinned far more deeply than your poor mother has ever done."

The puzzled expression grew deeper on Sibyl's face. An old memory of her mother returned to her. She saw again the scene, and recalled her mother's words, the words she had overheard, and which the mother had denied. She was quite still for a full moment, the little clock on the mantelpiece ticked loudly, then she said slowly:

"And Lord Jesus, isn't He perfect?"

Ogilvie started when he heard her words.

"Aye, He is perfect," he answered, "you are safe in trusting to Him.