style="font-size:15px;"> “I am going to look for Audrey,” she said; and before Evelyn could prevent her, she left the room.
“Ain’t she a spiteful, nasty thing!” said the maid the moment Sylvia’s back was turned. “Ain’t she just the very sort that your mother would be mad at your knowing! And I willing to be kind to her and all, and to have a dull evening for her sake, and she ups and cries, ‘I don’t eat with servants.’ Forsooth! I like her ways! I hope, Miss Evelyn, you won’t have nothing more to do with her.”
“Oh dear!” said Evelyn, lying back in her chair and going off into one peal of laughter after another. “You really kill me, Jas, with your silly ways. It was fun to see Sylvia when she spoke like that. And didn’t she take a rise out of you! And was not your pecker up! Oh, it was killing – killing!”
“I am surprised to hear you talk, Miss Evelyn, as you do. You have already forgotten your poor mother and what she said I was to be to you.”
“I have not forgotten her, Jas; but I mean to have great fun with Sylvia, and whether you like it or not you will have to lump it. Oh, I say, she has come back! – Well, Sylvia? Why, you have got a lovely dress hanging over your arm!”
“It is the best I could get,” said Sylvia. “I went to Audrey’s wardrobe and took it out. I did not ask her leave; she was not in the room. There were numbers of dresses, all hanging on pegs, and I took this one. See, it is only India muslin, and it can be washed and done up beautifully. I am determined to have my one happy evening without being docked of any of it, and I could not come down in my own frock. See, Evelyn; do you think it will do?”
“It looks rather raggy,” said Evelyn, gazing at the white India muslin, with its lovely lace and chiffon and numerous little tucks, with small favor; “but I suppose it is better than nothing.”
“I borrowed this white sash too,” said Sylvia, “and those shoes and stockings. I am certain to be found out. I am certain never to be allowed to come to the Castle again; but I mean to have one really great evening of grand fun.”
“And I won’t help you to dress,” said Jasper.
“But you will, Jasper, because I order it,” cried the imperious little Evelyn. “Only,” she added, “you must dress me first; and then, while you are helping Sylvia to look as smart as she can in that old rag, I will strut up and down before the glass and try to imagine myself a bride and the owner of Wynford Castle.”
Jasper was, after all, too much afraid of Evelyn not to yield to her will, and the dressing of the extraordinary girl began. She was very particular about the arranging of her hair, and insisted on having a dash of powder on her face; finally, she found herself in the satin robe with its magnificent adornings. Her hair was once again piled on the top of her head, a wreath of stephanotis surrounding it, and she stood in silent ecstasy gazing at her image in the glass.
It was now Sylvia’s turn to be appareled for the festive occasion, and Jasper at first felt cross and discontented as she took down the girl’s masses of raven-black hair and began to brush them out; but soon the magnificence of the locks, which were tawny in places, and brightened here and there with threads of almost gold, interested her so completely that she could not rest until she had made what she called the best of Sylvia’s head.
With all her faults, Jasper could on occasions have taste enough, and she soon made Sylvia look as she had seldom looked before. Her thick hair was piled high on her small and classical head; the white muslin dress fitted close to her slim young figure; and when she stood close to Evelyn, and they prepared to go down-stairs together, Sylvia, even in her borrowed plumes, even in the dress which was practically a stolen dress, looked fifty times more the heiress than the overdressed and awkward little real heiress.
When the girls reached the large central hall they both stopped. Audrey was standing near the log fire, and a group of bright and beautifully dressed children clustered round her. Two of the girls wore muslin frocks; their hair, bright in color and very thick in quantity, hung down below their waists. There were a couple of boys in the proverbial Eton jackets; and another pair of girls of ordinary appearance, but with intelligent faces and graceful figures. Audrey gave a perceptible start when she saw her cousin and Sylvia coming to meet her. Just for an instant Sylvia looked awkward. Audrey’s eyes slightly dilated; then she came slowly forward.
“Evelyn,” she said, “may I introduce my special friends? This is Henrietta Jervice, and this is Juliet; and here is Arthur, and here Robert. Can you remember so many names all at once? Oh, here are Mary Clavering and Sophie. – Now, my dears,” she added, turning and laughing back at the group, “you have all heard of Evelyn, have you not? This young lady is Miss Sylvia – ”
“Sylvia Leeson,” said Sylvia. A vivid color came into her cheeks; she drew herself up tall and erect; her black eyes flashed an angry fire.
Audrey looked at her with a slow and puzzled expression. She certainly was very handsome; but where had she got that dress? Sylvia seemed to read the thoughts in Audrey’s heart. She bent towards her.
“I will send it back next week. You were not in your room. It was time to dress for dinner. I ran in and took it. If you cannot forgive me I will make an excuse to go up-stairs, and I will take it off and put it back again in your wardrobe, and I will slip home and no one will be the wiser. I know you meant to lend me a dress, for I could not come down in my old rags; but if I have offended you past forgiveness I will go quietly away and no one will miss me.”
“Stay,” said Audrey coldly. She turned round and began to talk to Henrietta Jervice.
Henrietta laughed and chatted incessantly. She was a merry girl, and very good-looking; she was tall for her age, which was between sixteen and seventeen. Both she and her sister were quite schoolgirls, however, and had frank, fresh manners, which made Sylvia’s heart go out to them.
“How nice people in my own class of life really are!” she thought. “How dreadful – oh, how dreadful it is to have to live as I do! And I see by Audrey’s face that she thinks that I have not the slightest idea how a lady ought to act. Oh, it is terrible! But there, I will enjoy myself for the nonce; I will – I vow it. Poor little Evelyn, however gauche she is, and however ridiculous, has small chance against Audrey. Even if she is fifty times the heiress, Audrey has the manners of one born to rule. Oh, how I could love her! How happy she could make me!”
“Do you skate?” suddenly asked Arthur Jervice.
“Yes,” replied Sylvia bluntly. She turned and looked at him. He looked back at her, and his eyes laughed.
“I wonder what you are thinking about?” he said. “You look as if – ”
“As if what?” said Sylvia. She drew back a little, and Arthur did the same.
“As if you meant to run swords into us all. But, all the same, I like your look. Are you staying here?”
“No,” said Sylvia. “I live not far away. I have come here just for the day.”
“Well, we shall see you to-morrow, of course. Mr. Wynford says we can skate on the pond to-morrow, for the ice will be quite certain to bear. I hope you will come. I love good skating.”
“And so do I,” said Sylvia.
“Then will you come?”
“Probably not.”
Arthur was silent for a moment. He was a tall boy for his age, and was a good half-head above Sylvia, tall as she also
