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CHAPTER V . “ Mother , Mother , I am so happy ! ” whispered the girl , burying her face in the lap of the faded , tired - looking woman who , with back turned to the shrill intrusive light , was sitting in the one arm - chair that their dingy sitting - room contained . “ I am so happy ! ” she repeated , “ and you must be happy , too ! ” Mrs . Vane winced and put her thin , bismuth - whitened hands on her daughter’s head . “ Happy ! ” she echoed , “ I am only happy , Sibyl , when I see you act . You must not think of anything but your acting . Mr . Isaacs has been very good to us , and we owe him money . ” The girl looked up and pouted . “ Money , Mother ? ” she cried , “ what does money matter ? Love is more than money . ” “ Mr . Isaacs has advanced us fifty pounds to pay off our debts and to get a proper outfit for James . You must not forget that , Sibyl . Fifty pounds is a very large sum . Mr . Isaacs has been most considerate . ” “ He is not a gentleman , Mother , and I hate the way he talks to me , ” said the girl , rising to her feet and going over to the window . “ I don’t know how we could manage without him , ” answered the elder woman querulously . Sibyl Vane tossed her head and laughed . “ We don’t want him any more , Mother . Prince Charming rules life for us now . ” Then she paused . A rose shook in her blood and shadowed her cheeks . Quick breath parted the petals of her lips . They trembled . Some southern wind of passion swept over her and stirred the dainty folds of her dress . “ I love him , ” she said simply . “ Foolish child ! foolish child ! ” was the parrot - phrase flung in answer . The waving of crooked , false - jewelled fingers gave grotesqueness to the words . The girl laughed again . The joy of a caged bird was in her voice . Her eyes caught the melody and echoed it in radiance , then closed for a moment , as though to hide their secret . When they opened , the mist of a dream had passed across them . Thin - lipped wisdom spoke at her from the worn chair , hinted at prudence , quoted from that book of cowardice whose author apes the name of common sense . She did not listen . She was free in her prison of passion . Her prince , Prince Charming , was with her . She had called on memory to remake him . She had sent her soul to search for him , and it had brought him back . His kiss burned again upon her mouth . Her eyelids were warm with his breath . Then wisdom altered its method and spoke of espial and discovery . This young man might be rich . If so , marriage should be thought of . Against the shell of her ear broke the waves of worldly cunning . The arrows of craft shot by her . She saw the thin lips moving , and smiled . Suddenly she felt the need to speak . The wordy silence troubled her . “ Mother , Mother , ” she cried , “ why does he love me so much ? I know why I love him . I love him because he is like what love himself should be . But what does he see in me ? I am not worthy of him . And yet — why , I cannot tell — though I feel so much beneath him , I don’t feel humble . I feel proud , terribly proud . Mother , did you love my father as I love Prince Charming ? ”
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