When they landed at the little quay just outside the inn, the landlord came down to meet them. He held a telegram in his hand. "This came for you, madam, in your absence," he said, and he gave the telegram to Mrs. Ogilvie. She tore it open. It was from her lawyer, Mr. Acland, and ran as follows: "Ominous rumors with regard to Lombard Deeps have reached me. Better not go any further at present with the purchase of Silverbel." Mrs. Ogilvie's face turned pale. She looked up and met the fixed stare of her little daughter and of Rochester. Lady Helen had turned away. She was leaning over the rails of the little garden and looking down into the swiftly flowing river. Mrs. Ogilvie's face grew hard. She crushed up the telegram in her hand. "I hope there is nothing wrong?" asked Rochester. "Nothing at all," she replied. "Yes, we will come here next week. Sibyl, don't stare in that rude way." The return journey was not as lively as that happy one in the morning. Sibyl felt through her sensitive little frame that her mother was worried about something. Rochester also looked anxious. Lady Helen alone seemed unconscious and _distrait_. When the child nestled up to her she put her arm round her waist. "Are you sad about anything, darling Lady Helen?" whispered Sibyl. "No, Sibyl; I am quite happy." "Then you are thinking very hard?" "I often think." "I do so want you to be awfully happy." "I know you do, and I think I shall be." "Then that is right. _Twelve he marries_. Wasn't it sweet of the marguerite daisy to give Mr. Rochester just the right petal at the end; wasn't it luck?" "Yes; but hush, don't talk so loud." Mr. Rochester now changed his seat, and came opposite to where Lady Helen and the child had placed themselves. He did not talk to Lady Helen, but he looked at her several times. Presently he took one of Sibyl's hands, and stroked it fondly. "Does Lady Helen tell you beautiful stories too?" asked Sibyl, suddenly. "No," he answered; "she is quite naughty about that. She never tells me the charming stories she tells you." "You ought to," said Sibyl, looking at her earnestly; "it would do him good. It's an awfully nice way, if you want to give a person a home truth, to put it into a story. Nurse told me about that, and I remembered it ever since. She used to put her home truths into proverbs when I was quite young, such as, 'A burnt child dreads the fire,' or 'Marry in haste, repent at leisure,' or----" "Oh, that will do, Sibyl." Lady Helen spoke; there was almost a piteous appeal in the words.