On the next morning these letters lay beside Philip Ogilvie's plate at breakfast. Sibyl's was well blotted and sealed with her favorite violet seal. Mrs. Ogilvie's was trim, neat, and without a blemish. Ogilvie read them both, first the mother's, then the child's. Sibyl's was almost all kisses: hardly any words, just blots and kisses. Ogilvie did not press his lips to the kisses this time. He read the letter quickly, thrust it into his pocket, and once more turned his attention to what his wife had said. He smiled sarcastically as he read. The evening before he had written Lord Grayleigh accepting the proffered engagement. The die was cast. CHAPTER VII. The following letter reached Philip Ogilvie late that same evening:-- MY DEAR OGILVIE, Your decision is naturally all that can be desired, and I only hope you may never live to regret it. I have, most unfortunately, given my ankle a bad sprain. I had a fall yesterday when out riding, and am obliged to lie up for a day or two. There is much that I should wish to talk over with you before you go to Queensland. Can you come down here to-morrow by the first train? I will not detain you an hour longer than I can help. All other arrangements are in the hands of my agents, Messrs. Spielmann & Co. Yours sincerely, GRAYLEIGH. Ogilvie read this letter quickly. He knit his brow as he did so. It annoyed him a good deal. "I did not want to go there," he thought. "I am doing this principally for the sake of the child. I can arrange all financial matters through Spielmann. Grayleigh wants this thing done; I alone can do it to his satisfaction and to the satisfaction of the public. He must pay me--what he pays will be Sibyl's, the provision for her future. But I don't want to see the child--until all this dirty work is over. If I come back things may be altered. God only knows what may have occurred. The mine may be all right, there may be deliverance, but I didn't want to see her before I go. It is possible that I may not be able to keep my composure. There are a hundred things which make an interview between the child and me undesirable." He thought and thought, and at last rose from his chair and began to pace the room. He had not suffered from his heart since his interview with Dr. Rashleigh. He gave it but scant consideration now. "If I have a fatal disease it behooves me to act as if I were absolutely sound," he said to himself. And he had so acted after the first shock of Rashleigh's verdict had passed off. But he did not like the thought of seeing Sibyl. Still, Grayleigh's letter could not be lightly disregarded. If Grayleigh wished to see him and could not come to town, it was essential that he should go to him. He rang his bell and sent off a telegram to the effect that he would arrive at Grayleigh Manor at an early hour on the following day.