let her come to any harm. Mother, you must watch over her."

"James, you really talk very strangely. Of course I watch over Sibyl."

"I hear a gentleman comes every night to the theatre and goes behind to
talk to her. Is that right? What about that?"

"You are speaking about things you don't understand, James. In the
profession we are accustomed to receive a great deal of most gratifying
attention. I myself used to receive many bouquets at one time. That was
when acting was really understood. As for Sibyl, I do not know at
present whether her attachment is serious or not. But there is no doubt
that the young man in question is a perfect gentleman. He is always most
polite to me. Besides, he has the appearance of being rich, and the
flowers he sends are lovely."

"You don't know his name, though," said the lad harshly.

"No," answered his mother with a placid expression in her face. "He has
not yet revealed his real name. I think it is quite romantic of him. He
is probably a member of the aristocracy."

James Vane bit his lip. "Watch over Sibyl, Mother," he cried, "watch
over her."

"My son, you distress me very much. Sibyl is always under my special
care. Of course, if this gentleman is wealthy, there is no reason why
she should not contract an alliance with him. I trust he is one of the
aristocracy. He has all the appearance of it, I must say. It might be a
most brilliant marriage for Sibyl. They would make a charming couple.
His good looks are really quite remarkable; everybody notices them."

The lad muttered something to himself and drummed on the window-pane
with his coarse fingers. He had just turned round to say something when
the door opened and Sibyl ran in.

"How serious you both are!" she cried. "What is the matter?"

"Nothing," he answered. "I suppose one must be serious sometimes.
Good-bye, Mother; I will have my dinner at five o'clock. Everything is
packed, except my shirts, so you need not trouble."

"Good-bye, my son," she answered with a bow of strained stateliness.

She was extremely annoyed at the tone he had adopted with her, and there
was something in his look that had made her feel afraid.

"Kiss me, Mother," said the girl. Her flowerlike lips touched the
withered cheek and warmed its frost.

"My child! my child!" cried Mrs. Vane, looking up to the ceiling in
search of an imaginary gallery.

"Come, Sibyl," said her brother impatiently. He hated his mother's
affectations.

They went out into the flickering, wind-blown sunlight and strolled down
the dreary Euston Road. The passersby glanced in wonder at the sullen
heavy youth who, in coarse, ill-fitting clothes, was in the company of
such a graceful, refined-looking girl. He was like a common gardener
walking with a rose.

Jim frowned from time to time when he caught the inquisitive glance of
some stranger. He had that dislike of being stared at, which comes on
geniuses late in life and never leaves the commonplace. Sibyl, however,
was quite unconscious of the effect she was producing. Her love was
trembling in laughter on her lips. She was thinking of Prince Charming,
and, that she might think of him all the more, she did not talk of him,
but prattled on about the ship in which Jim was going to sail, about the
gold he was certain to find, about the wonderful heiress whose life he
was to save from the wicked, red-shirted bushrangers. For he was not to
remain a sailor, or a supercargo, or whatever he was going to be. Oh,
no! A sailor's existence was dreadful. Fancy being cooped up in a horrid
ship, with the hoarse, hump-backed waves trying to get in, and a black
wind blowing the masts down and tearing the sails into long screaming
ribands! He was to leave the vessel at Melbourne, bid a polite good-bye
to the captain, and go off at once to the gold-fields. Before a week was
over he was to come across a large nugget of pure gold, the largest
nugget that had ever been discovered, and bring it down to the coast in
a waggon guarded by six mounted policemen. The bushrangers were to
attack them three times, and be defeated with immense slaughter. Or, no.
He was not to go to the gold-fields at all. They were horrid places,
where men got intoxicated, and shot each other in bar-rooms, and used
bad language. He was to be a nice sheep-farmer, and one evening, as he
was riding home, he was to see the beautiful heiress being carried off
by a robber on a black horse, and give chase, and rescue her. Of course,
she would fall in love with him, and he with her, and they would get
married, and come home, and live in an immense house in London. Yes,
there were delightful things in store for him. But he must be very good,
and not lose his temper, or spend his money foolishly. She was only a
year older than he was, but she knew so much more of life. He must be
sure, also, to write to her by every mail, and to say his prayers each
night before he went to sleep. God was very good, and would watch over
him. She would pray for him, too, and in a few years he would come back
quite rich and happy.

The lad listened sulkily to her and made no answer. He was heart-sick at
leaving home.

Yet it was not this alone that made him gloomy and morose. Inexperienced


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