she looked full at Audrey. “Do you regard me as barbarian, or a wild beast, or what?”
“I am interested in you,” said Audrey in her low voice. “You are decidedly out of the common.”
“Come,” said Lady Frances, “we have no time for analyzing character just now. Audrey, take your cousin to her room, and then go yourself and get dressed for dinner.”
“Will you come, Evelyn?” said Audrey.
She crossed the hall, Evelyn following her slowly. Once or twice the heiress stopped to examine a mailed figure in armor, or an old picture on which the firelight cast a fitful gleam. She said, “How ugly! A queer old thing, that!” to the figure in armor, and she scowled up at the picture.
“You are not going to frighten me, you old scarecrow,” she said; and then she ran up-stairs by Audrey’s side.
“So this is what they call English grandeur!” she remarked. “Is not this house centuries old?”
“Parts of the house are,” answered Audrey.
“Is this part?”
“No; the hall and staircase were added about seventy years ago.”
“Is my room in the old part or the new part?”
“Your room is in what is called the medium part. It is a lovely room; you will be charmed with it.”
“I by no means know that I shall. But show it to me.”
Audrey walked a little quicker. She began to feel a curious sense of irritation, and knew that there was something about Evelyn which might under certain conditions try her temper very much. They reached the lovely blue-and-silver room, and Audrey flung open the door, expecting a cry of delight from Evelyn. But the heiress was not one to give herself away; she cast cool and critical eyes round the chamber.
“Dear, dear!” she said – “dear, dear! So this is your idea of an English bedroom!”
“It is an English bedroom; there is no idea about it,” said Audrey.
“You are cross, are you not, Audrey?” was Evelyn’s remark. “It is very trying for you my coming here. I know that, of course; Jasper has told me. I should be ignorant and quite lost were it not for Jasper, but Jasper puts me up to things. I do not think I could live without her. She has often described you – often and often. It would make you scream to listen to her. She has taken you off splendidly. Really, all things considered, you are very like what she has pictured you. I say, Audrey, would you like to come up here after your next meal, whatever you call it, and watch Jasper as she takes you off? She is the most splendid mimic in all the world. In a day or two she will be able to imitate Aunt Frances and every one in the house. Oh, it is killing to watch her and to listen to her! You would like to see yourself through Jasper’s eyes, would you not, Audrey?”
“No, thank you,” replied Audrey.
“How you kill me with that ‘No, thank you,’ of yours! Why, they are the very words Jasper said you would be certain to say. Oh dear! this is quite amusing.” Evelyn laughed long and loud, wiping her eyes with her handkerchief as she did so. “Oh dear! oh dear!” she said. “Don’t look any crosser, Audrey, or I shall die with laughing! Why, you will make me scream.”
“That would be bad for you after your journey,” said Audrey. “I see you have hot water, and your maid is in the dressing-room. I will leave you now. That is the dressing-bell; the bell for dinner will ring in half an hour. I must go and dress.”
Audrey rushed out of the room, very nearly, but not quite, banging the door after her.
“If I stayed another moment I should lose my temper. I should say something terrible,” thought the girl. Her heart was beating fast; she pressed her hand to her side. “If it were not for Jenny I do not believe I could endure the house with that girl,” was her next ejaculation. “To think that she is a Wynford, and that the Castle – the lovely, beautiful Castle – is to belong to her some day. Oh, it is maddening! Our darling knight in armor – Sir Galahad I have always called him – and our Rembrandt: one is a scarecrow, and the other a queer old thing. Oh Evelyn, you are almost past bearing!”
Audrey ran away to her room, where her maid, Eleanor, was waiting to attend on her. Audrey was never in the habit of confiding in her maid; and the girl, who was brimful of importance, curiosity, and news, did not dare to express any of her feelings to Miss Audrey in her present mood.
“Put on my very prettiest frock to-night, please, Eleanor,” said the young lady. “Dress my hair to the best advantage. My white dress, did you say? No, not white, but that pale, very pale, rose-colored silk with all the little trimmings and flounces.”
“But that is one of your gayest dresses, Miss Audrey.”
“Never mind; I choose to look gay and well dressed.”
The girl proceeded with her young mistress’s toilet, and a minute or two before the second bell rang Audrey was ready. She made a lovely and graceful picture as she looked at herself for a moment in the long mirror. Her figure was already beautifully formed; she was tall, graceful, dignified. The set of her young head on her stately neck was superb. Her white shoulders gleamed under the transparent folds of her lovely frock. Her rounded arms were white as alabaster. She slipped a small diamond ring on one of her fingers, looked for a moment longingly at a pearl necklace, but finally decided not to wear any more adornment, and ran lightly down-stairs.
The big drawing-room was lit with the softest light. The Squire stood by the hearth, on which a huge log blazed. Lady Frances, in full evening-dress, was carelessly turning the leaves of a novel.
“What a quiet evening we are likely to have!” she said, looking up at the Squire as she spoke. “To-morrow there are numbers of guests coming; we shall be a big party, and Audrey and Evelyn will, I trust, have a pleasant time. – My dear Audrey, why that dress this evening?”
“I took a fancy to wear it, mother,” said Audrey in a light tone.
There was more color than usual in her cheeks, and her eyes were brighter than her mother had ever seen them. Lady Frances was not a woman of any special discernment. She was an excellent mother and a splendid hostess. She was good to look at, and was just the sort of grande dame to keep up all the dignity of Wynford Castle, but she never even pretended to understand her only child. The Squire, a sensitive man in many ways, was also more or less a stranger to Audrey’s real character. He looked at her, it is true, a little anxiously now, and a slight curiosity stirred his breast as to the possible effect Evelyn’s presence in the house might have on his beautiful young daughter. As to Evelyn herself, he had not seen her, and did not even care to inquire of his wife what sort of girl she was. He was deeply absorbed over the silver currency question, and was writing an exhaustive paper on it for the Nineteenth Century; he had not time, therefore, to worry about domestic matters. Just then the drawing-room door was flung open, and the footman announced, as though she were a stranger:
“Miss Evelyn Wynford.”
If Audrey was, according to Lady Frances’s ideas, slightly overdressed for so small a party, she was quite outshone by Evelyn, whose dress was altogether unsuitable for her age. She wore a very thick silk, bright blue in color, with a quantity of colored embroidery thrown over it. Her little fat neck was bare, and her sleeves were short. Her scanty fair hair was arranged on the top of her head, two diamond pins supporting it in position; a diamond necklace was clasped round her neck, and she had bracelets on her arms. She was evidently
