"This is very disturbing," said Mrs. Ogilvie. "I have had a long, tiring day, and you give me a headache. When is my husband's report likely to reach England?" "Not for several weeks, of course. It ought to be here in about two months' time, but we may have a cablegram almost any day. The public are just in a waiting attitude, they want to invest their money. If the mine turns out a good thing shares will be subscribed to any extent. Everything depends on Ogilvie's report." "Won't you stay and have some supper?" said Mrs. Ogilvie, carelessly. "I have said already that I do not understand these things." "I cannot stay, I came to see you because it is important. I want to know if you really wish to go on with the purchase of Silverbel. I am ready to pay a deposit for you of £2,000 on the price of the estate, which will, of course, clinch the purchase, and this deposit I have arranged to pay to-morrow, but under the circumstances would it not be best to delay? If your husband cannot give a good report of the mine he will not want to buy an expensive place like Silverbel. My advice to you, Mrs. Ogilvie, is to let Silverbel go. I happen to know at this moment of another purchaser who is only waiting to close if you decline. When your husband comes back rich you can easily buy another place." "No other place will suit me except Silverbel," she answered. "I strongly recommend you not to buy it now." "And I intend to have it. I am going down there to live next week. Of course, you arranged that I could go in at once after the deposit was paid?" "Yes, on sufferance, subject to your completing the purchase in October." "Then pray don't let the matter be disturbed again. I shall order furniture immediately. You are quite a raven, a croaker of bad news, Mr. Acland." Mr. Acland raised his hand in deprecation. "I thought it only fair to tell you," he answered, and the next moment he left the house. As he did so, he uttered a solitary remark: "What a fool that woman is! I pity Ogilvie." CHAPTER XIII. It was the last week in July when Mrs. Ogilvie took possession of Silverbel. She had ordered furniture in her usual reckless fashion, going to the different shops where she knew she could obtain credit. The house, already beautiful, looked quite lovely when decorated by the skilful hands which arranged draperies and put furniture into the most advantageous positions. Sibyl's room, just over the front porch, was really worthy of her. It was a bower of whiteness and innocence. It had lattice windows which looked out on to the lovely grounds. Climbing roses peeped in through the narrow panes, and sent their sweet fragrance to greet the child when the windows were open and she put her head out.