Part 30 (1/2)

”I would much rather tell you everything about myself than keep silence, but I cannot speak,” said Sylvia simply.

Lady Frances looked at her in some wonder.

”She is a lady when all is said and done,” she said to herself. ”As to poverty, I do not know that I ever saw any one so badly dressed; the child has not sufficient clothing to keep her warm. When last I saw her she was painfully thin, too; she has more color in her cheeks now, and more flesh on her poor young bones, so perhaps whoever she lives with is taking better care of her. I am curious, and I will not pretend to deny it, but of course I can question the child no further.”

No one could make herself more agreeable than Lady Frances Wynford when she chose. She chatted now on many matters, and Sylvia soon felt perfectly at home.

”Why, the child, young as she is, knows some of the ways of society,”

thought the great lady. ”I only wish that that miserable little Evelyn was half as refined and nice as this poor, neglected girl.”

Presently the drive came to an end. Sylvia had not enjoyed herself so much for many a day.

”Now, listen, Sylvia,” said Lady Frances: ”I am a very plain-spoken woman; when I say a thing I mean it, and when I think a thing, as a rule, I say it. I like you. That I am curious about you, and very much inclined to wonder who you are and what you are doing in this place, goes without saying; but of course I do not want to pry into what you do not wish to tell me. Your secret is your own, my dear, and not my affair; but, at the same time, I should like to befriend you. Can you come to the Castle sometimes? When you do come it will be as a welcome guest.”

”I do not know how I can come,” replied Sylvia. She colored, looked down, and her face turned rather white. ”I have not a proper dress,” she added. ”Oh, not that I am poor, but--”

Lady Frances looked puzzled. She longed to say, ”I will give you the dress you need,” but there was something about Sylvia's face which forbade her.

”Well,” she said, ”if you can manage the dress will you come? This, let me see, is Thursday. The girls are to have a whole holiday on Sat.u.r.day.

Will you spend Sat.u.r.day with us? Now you must say yes; I will take no refusal.”

Sylvia's heart gave a bound of pleasure.

”Is it right; is it wrong?” she said to herself. ”But I cannot help it,”

was her next thought; ”I must have my fun-I must. I do like Audrey so much! And I like Evelyn too-not, of course, like Audrey; but I like them both.”

”You will come, dear?” said Lady Frances. ”We shall be very pleased to see you. By the way, your address is--”

”The Priory,” said Sylvia hastily. ”Oh, please, Lady Frances, don't send any message there! If you do I shall not be allowed to come to you. Yes, I will come-perhaps never again, but I will come on Sat.u.r.day. It is a great pleasure; I do not feel able to refuse.”

”That is right. Then I shall expect you.”

Lady Frances nodded to the young girl, told the coachman to drive home, and the next moment had turned the corner and was lost to view.

”What fun this is!” said Sylvia to herself. ”I wish Pilot were here. I should like to have a race with him over the snow. Oh, how beautiful is the world when all is said and done! Now, if only I had a proper dress to go to the Castle in!”

She ran home. Her father was standing on the steps of the house. His face looked pinched, blue, and cold; the nourishment of the chop and the fried potatoes had evidently pa.s.sed away.

”Why, father, you want your tea!” said the girl. ”How sorry I am I was not in sooner to get it for you!”

”Tea, tea!” he said irritably. ”Always the same cry-food, nothing but food; the world is becoming impossible. My dear Sylvia, I told you that I should not want to eat again to-day. The fact is, you overfed me at lunch, and I am suffering from a sort of indigestion-I am really. There is nothing better for indigestion than hot water; I have been drinking it sparingly during the afternoon. But where have you been, dear, and why did you send Pilot home? The dog made such a noise at the gate that I went myself to find out what was the matter.”

”I did not want Pilot, so I sent him home,” was Sylvia's low reply.

”But why so?”

She was silent for a moment; then she looked up into her father's face.