CHAPTER V.

dwithabowofstrainedstateliness. Shewasextremelyannoyedatthetonehehadadoptedwithher,andtherewassomethinginhislookthathadmadeherfeelafraid. “Kissme,Mother,”saidthegirl.Herflowerlikelipstouchedthewitheredcheekandwarmeditsfrost. “Mychild!mychild!”criedMrs.Vane,lookinguptotheceilinginsearchofanimaginarygallery. “Come,Sibyl,”saidherbrotherimpatiently.Hehatedhismother’saffectations. Theywentoutintotheflickering,wind-blownsunlightandstrolleddownthedrearyEustonRoad.Thepassersbyglancedinwonderatthesullenheavyyouthwho,incoarse,ill-fittingclothes,wasinthecompanyofsuchagraceful,refined-lookinggirl.Hewaslikeacommongardenerwalkingwitharose. Jimfrownedfromtimetotimewhenhecaughttheinquisitiveglanceofsomestranger.Hehadthatdislikeofbeingstaredat,whichcomesongeniuseslateinlifeandneverleavesthecommonplace.Sibyl,however,wasquiteunconsciousoftheeffectshewasproducing.Herlovewastremblinginlaughteronherlips.ShewasthinkingofPrinceCharming,and,thatshemightthinkofhimallthemore,shedidnottalkofhim,butprattledonabouttheshipinwhichJimwasgoingtosail,aboutthegoldhewascertaintofind,aboutthewonderfulheiresswhoselifehewastosavefromthewicked,red-shirtedbushrangers.Forhewasnottoremainasailor,orasupercargo,orwhateverhewasgoingtobe.Oh,no!Asailor’sexistencewasdreadful.Fancybeingcoopedupinahorridship,withthehoarse,hump-backedwavestryingtogetin,andablackwindblowingthemastsdownandtearingthesailsintolongscreamingribands!HewastoleavethevesselatMelbourne,bidapolitegood-byetothecaptain,andgooffatoncetothegold-fields.Beforeaweekwasoverhewastocomeacrossalargenuggetofpuregold,thelargestnuggetthathadeverbeendiscovered,andbringitdowntothecoastinawaggonguardedbysixmountedpolicemen.Thebushrangersweretoattackthemthreetimes,andbedefeatedwithimmenseslaughter.Or,no.Hewasnottogotothegold-fieldsatall.Theywerehorridplaces,wheremengotintoxicated,andshoteachotherinbar-rooms,andusedbadlanguage.Hewastobeanicesheep-farmer,andoneevening,ashewasridinghome,hewastoseethebeautifulheiressbeingcarriedoffbyarobberonablackhorse,andgivechase,andrescueher.Ofcourse,shewouldfallinlovewithhim,andhewithher,andtheywouldgetmarried,andcomehome,andliveinanimmensehouseinLondon.Yes,thereweredelightfulthingsinstoreforhim.Buthemustbeverygood,andnotlosehistemper,orspendhismoneyfoolishly.Shewasonlyayearolderthanhewas,butsheknewsomuchmoreoflife.Hemustbesure,also,towritetoherbyeverymail,andtosayhisprayerseachnightbeforehewenttosleep.Godwasverygood,andwouldwatchoverhim.Shewouldprayforhim,too,andinafewyearshewouldcomebackquiterichandhappy. Theladlistenedsulkilytoherandmadenoanswer.Hewasheart-sickatleavinghome. Yetitwasnotthisalonethatmadehimgloomyandmorose.Inexperiencedthoughhewas,hehadstillastrongsenseofthedangerofSibyl’sposition.Thisyoungdandywhowasmakinglovetohercouldmeanhernogood.Hewasagentleman,andhehatedhimforthat,hatedhimthroughsomecuriousrace-instinctforwhichhecouldnotaccount,andwhichforthatreasonwasallthemoredominantwithinhim.Hewasconsciousalsooftheshallownessandvanityofhismother’snature,andinthatsawinfiniteperilforSibylandSibyl’shappiness.Childrenbeginbylovingtheirparentsastheygrowoldertheyjudgethemsometimestheyforgivethem. Hismother!Hehadsomethingonhismindtoaskofher,somethingthathehadbroodedonformanymonthsofsilence.Achancephrasethathehadheardatthetheatre,awhisperedsneerthathadreachedhisearsonenightashewaitedatthestage-door,hadsetlooseatrainofhorriblethoughts.Heremembereditasifithadbeenthelashofahunting-cropacrosshisface.Hisbrowsknittogetherintoawedge-likefurrow,andwithatwitchofpainhebithisunderlip. “YouarenotlisteningtoawordIamsaying,Jim,”criedSibyl,“andIammakingthemostdelightfulplansforyourfuture.Dosaysomething.” “Whatdoyouwantmetosay?” “Oh!thatyouwillbeagoodboyandnotforgetus,”sheanswered,smilingathim. Heshruggedhisshoulders.“YouaremorelikelytoforgetmethanIamtoforgetyou,Sibyl.” Sheflushed.“Whatdoyoumean,Jim?”sheasked. “Youhaveanewfriend,Ihear.Whois