by L. T. Meade
CHAPTER VIII.--EVENING-DRESS.
When Audrey re-entered Evelyn's pretty boudoir she found the two girlsstanding close together and talking earnestly. Jasper also was joiningin the conversation. Audrey felt her heart sink.
"How can Evelyn make free with Jasper as she does? And why does Sylviatalk to Evelyn as though they were having secrets together? Why, theyonly met to-day!" was the girl's thought. Her tone, therefore, was cold.
"I met father, and he says you may stay," she remarked in a carelessvoice. "And now, as doubtless you will be quite happy, I will run awayand leave you, for I have much to do."
"No, no; not until I have thanked you and kissed you first," saidSylvia.
Audrey did not wish Sylvia to kiss her, but she could not make any openobjection. She scarcely returned the girl's warm embrace, and the nextmoment had left the room.
"Is she not a horror?" said Evelyn. "I began by liking her--I mean Irather liked her. She had a grand sort of manner, and her eyes arehandsome, but I hate her now. She is not half, nor quarter, as pretty asyou are, Sylvia. And, oh, Sylvia, you will be my friend--my true, truefriend--for I am so lonely now that mothery is dead!"
Sylvia was standing by the fire. There was a bright color in both hercheeks, and her eyes shone vividly.
"My mother died too," she said. "I was happy while she lived. Yes, Eve,I will be your friend if you like."
"It will be all the better for you," said Evelyn, who could never longforget her own importance. "If I take to you there is no saying what mayhappen, for, whatever lies before me in the future, I am my UncleEdward's heiress; and Audrey, for all her pride, is nobody."
"Audrey looks much more suitable," said Sylvia, and then she stopped,partly amused and partly frightened by the look in Evelyn's light-browneyes.
"How dare you!" she cried. "How horrid--how horrid of you! After all, Ido not know that I want to see too much of you. You had better becareful what sort of things you say to me. And first of all, if I am tosee any more of you, you must tell me why Audrey would make a betterheiress than I shall."
"Oh, never mind," said Sylvia; but then she added: "Why should I nottell you? She is tall and graceful and very, very lovely, and she hasthe manners of a _grande dame_ although she is such a young girl. Anyone in all the world can see that Audrey is to the manner born, whereasyou----"
Evelyn looked almost frightened while Sylvia was talking.
"Is that really so?" she answered. "I ought to be just mad with you, butI'm not. Before the year is out no one will compare Audrey and me. Ishall be much, much the finest lady--much, much the grandest. I vow it; Ideclare it; I will do it; and you, Sylvia, shall help me."
"Oh, I have no objection," said Sylvia. "I am very glad indeed that youwill want my help, and I am sure you are heartily welcome."
Evelyn looked full up at Sylvia. Jasper had left the two girls together.The only light in the room now was the firelight, for the short winterday was drawing to an end.
"You, I suppose," said Evelyn, "are a lady although you do wear such ashabby dress and you suffer so terribly from hunger?"
"How do you know?" asked Sylvia.
"First, because you are not afraid of anything; and second, because youare graceful and, although you are so very queer, your voice has agentle sound. You are a lady by birth, are you not?"
"Yes," said Sylvia simply. She neither added to the word not took fromit. She became very silent and thoughtful.
"Why do you live in such a funny way? Why are you not educated likeother girls? And why will you tell me nothing about your home?"
"I have nothing to tell. My father and I came to live at The Priorythree months ago. He does not care for society, and he does not wish meto leave him."
"And you are poor?"
"No," said Sylvia.
"Not poor! And yet, why are you almost in rags? And you did eat up yourlunch so greedily!"
"I will answer nothing more, Evelyn. If you do not like me as I am, letme go now, and I will try to forget the beautiful, comfortable Castle,and the lovely meals, and you and your queer maid Jasper, and thebeautiful girl Audrey; for if you do not want me as I am, you can neverget me any other way. I am a lady, and we are not poor. Now are yousatisfied?"
"I burn with curiosity," said Evelyn; "and if mothery were alive, wouldshe not get it out of you! But if you wish it--and your eyes do look asif they were daggers--I will change the subject. What shall we do for therest of the day? Shall we go out and take a walk in the dark?"
"Yes; that would be lovely," cried Sylvia.
Evelyn shouted in an imperious way to Jasper.
"Bring my fur cloak," she said, "and my goloshes. I won't wear anythingover my head. I am going out with Miss Sylvia Leeson."
Jasper brought Evelyn's cloak, which was lined with the most lovelysquirrel inside and covered with bright crimson outside, and put it overher shoulders. Sylvia in her very shabby black cloth jacket, much tooshort in the waist and in the arms, accompanied her. They randown-stairs and went out into the grounds.
Now, if there was one thing more than another which would hopelesslydisplease Lady Frances, it was the idea of any of her relationswandering about after dusk. But luckily for Evelyn, and luckily also forpoor Sylvia, Lady Frances was some miles from Wynford Castle at thatmoment. The girls rushed about, and soon Evelyn forgot all herrestraints and shouted noisily. They played hide-and-seek amongst thetrees in the plantation. Sylvia echoed Evelyn's shouts; and the Squire,who was returning to the house in time to meet his guests, paused andlistened in much amazement to these unusual sounds of girlish laughter.There came a shrill shriek, and then the cry, "Here I am--seek and find,"and then another ringing peal of girlish merriment.
"Surely that cannot be Audrey!" he said to himself. "What extraordinarynoises!"
He went into the house. From his study window he saw the flash of alantern, which lit up a red cloak, and for an instant he observed thevery light hair and white face of his niece. But who was the girl withher--a tall, shabby-looking girl--about the height of his Audrey, too? Itcould not be Audrey! He sank down into a chair, and a look of perplexitycrossed his face.
"What am I to do with that poor child?" he said to himself. "Whatextraordinary, unpardonable conduct! Well, I will not tell Lady Frances.I determined that the child should have one day of liberty, but I amglad I did not make it more than one."
After Evelyn and Sylvia had quite exhausted themselves they returned tothe house.
Jasper was ready for them. She had laid out several dresses for Evelynto select from.
"I have just had a message from her ladyship," she said when the girlscame in with their cheeks glowing and eyes full of laughter. "All theyoung people are to dine with the family to-night. As a rule, when thereis company the younger members of the house dine in the schoolroom, butto-night you are all to be together. I got the message from thatstuck-up footman Scott. I hate the fellow; he had the impudence to saythat he did not think I was suited to my post."
"He had better not say it again," cried Evelyn, "or he will catch itfrom me. I mean to have a talk with each of the servants in turn, andtell them quite openly that at any moment I may be mistress, and thatthey had better look sharp before they incur my displeasure."
"But, Eve, could you?" exclaimed Sylvia. "Why, that would mean----"
"Uncle Ned's death. I know that," said Evelyn. "I love Uncle Ned. Ishall be awfully sorry when he does die. But however sorry I am, he willdie when his turn comes; and then I shall be mistress. I was frightfullysorry when mothery died; but however broken-hearted I was, she did diejust the same. It is so with every one. It is the height of folly toshirk subjects of that sort; one has to face them. I have no one now totake my part except dear old Jasper, and so I shall have to take my ownpart, and the servants had better know.--You can tell them too, Jasper; Igive you leave."
"Not I!" said Jasper. "I declare, Miss Evelyn, you are no end of a goosefor all that you are the darling of my heart. But now, miss, what dresswill y
ou wear to-night? I should say the white satin embroidered withthe seed pearls. It has a long train, and you will look like a bride init, miss. It is cut low in the neck, and has those sleeves which openabove the elbow, and a watteau back. It is a very elegant robe indeed;and I have a wreath of white stephanotis for your hair, miss. You willlook regal in this dress, and like an heiress, I do assure you, MissEve."
"It is perfectly exquisite!" said Evelyn. "Come, Sylvia; come and look.Oh, those dear little bunches of chiffon, and white stephanotis in themiddle of each bunch! And, oh, the lace! It is real lace, is it not,Jasper?"
"Brussels lace, and of the best quality; not too much, and yet enough.It cost a small fortune."
"Oh, here are the dear little shoes to match, and this petticoat withheaps of lace and embroidery! Well, when I wear this dress Audrey willhave to respect me."
"That is why I bought it, miss. I thought you should have the best."
"Oh, you are a darling! What would not mothery say if she could look atme to-night!"
"Well, Miss Evelyn, I hope I do my duty. But you and Miss Sylvia havebeen very late out, so you must hurry, miss, if I am to do you justice."
"But, oh, I say!" cried Evelyn, looking for the first time at herfriend. "What is Sylvia to wear?"
"I don't know, miss. None of your dresses will fit her; she is so muchtaller."
"I will not go down-stairs a fright," said Sylvia. "Audrey asked me, andshe must lend me something. Please, Jasper, do go to Miss Wynford's roomand ask her if she has a white dress she will lend me to wear to-night.Even a washing muslin will do. Anything that is long enough in the skirtand not too short in the waist. I will take it away and have it washedfresh for her. Do, please, please, ask her, Jasper!"
"I am very sorry, miss," answered Jasper. "I would do anything in reasonto oblige, but to go to a young lady whom I don't know and to make arequest of that sort is more than I can do, miss. Besides, she isoccupied now. A whole lot of visitors have just arrived--fine youngladies and tall young gentlemen--and they are all chittering-chatteringas though their lungs would burst. They are all in the hall, miss,chatting as hard as they can chat. No, I cannot ask her; I cannotreally."
"Then I must stop up-stairs and lose all, all the fun," said Sylvia.
The gaiety left her face. She sat down on a chair.
"You will get me something to eat, at any rate, Jasper?" she said.
"Yes, of course, miss; you and I can have a cozy meal together."
"No, thank you," said Sylvia proudly. "I don't eat with servants."
Jasper's face turned an ugly green color. She looked at Evelyn, butEvelyn only laughed.
"You want to be put in your place, Jas," was her remark. "You are alittle uppish, you know. I am quite pleased with Sylvia. I think she canteach me one or two things."
"Well," exclaimed Jasper, "if it is to be cruel and nasty to your ownold Jasper, I wish you joy of your future, Miss Evelyn; that I do.--And Iam sure, miss," she added, flashing angry eyes at the unconsciousSylvia, "I do not want to eat with you--not one bit. I am sure your dressain't fit for any lady to wear."
Sylvia got up slowly.
"I am going to look for Audrey," she said; and before Evelyn couldprevent her, she left the room.
"Ain't she a spiteful, nasty thing!" said the maid the moment Sylvia'sback was turned. "Ain't she just the very sort that your mother would bemad at your knowing! And I willing to be kind to her and all, and tohave a dull evening for her sake, and she ups and cries, 'I don't eatwith servants.' Forsooth! I like her ways! I hope, Miss Evelyn, youwon't have nothing more to do with her."
"Oh dear!" said Evelyn, lying back in her chair and going off into onepeal of laughter after another. "You really kill me, Jas, with yoursilly ways. It was fun to see Sylvia when she spoke like that. Anddidn't she take a rise out of you! And was not your pecker up! Oh, itwas killing--killing!"
"I am surprised to hear you talk, Miss Evelyn, as you do. You havealready forgotten your poor mother and what she said I was to be toyou."
"I have not forgotten her, Jas; but I mean to have great fun withSylvia, and whether you like it or not you will have to lump it. Oh, Isay, she has come back!--Well, Sylvia? Why, you have got a lovely dresshanging over your arm!"
"It is the best I could get," said Sylvia. "I went to Audrey's wardrobeand took it out. I did not ask her leave; she was not in the room. Therewere 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. Iam determined to have my one happy evening without being docked of anyof it, and I could not come down in my own frock. See, Evelyn; do youthink 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 smallfavor; "but I suppose it is better than nothing."
"I borrowed this white sash too," said Sylvia, "and those shoes andstockings. I am certain to be found out. I am certain never to beallowed to come to the Castle again; but I mean to have one really greatevening of grand fun."
"And I won't help you to dress," said Jasper.
"But you will, Jasper, because I order it," cried the imperious littleEvelyn. "Only," she added, "you must dress me first; and then, while youare helping Sylvia to look as smart as she can in that old rag, I willstrut up and down before the glass and try to imagine myself a bride andthe owner of Wynford Castle."
Jasper was, after all, too much afraid of Evelyn not to yield to herwill, and the dressing of the extraordinary girl began. She was veryparticular about the arranging of her hair, and insisted on having adash of powder on her face; finally, she found herself in the satin robewith its magnificent adornings. Her hair was once again piled on the topof her head, a wreath of stephanotis surrounding it, and she stood insilent ecstasy gazing at her image in the glass.
It was now Sylvia's turn to be appareled for the festive occasion, andJasper at first felt cross and discontented as she took down the girl'smasses of raven-black hair and began to brush them out; but soon themagnificence of the locks, which were tawny in places, and brightenedhere and there with threads of almost gold, interested her so completelythat she could not rest until she had made what she called the best ofSylvia's head.
With all her faults, Jasper could on occasions have taste enough, andshe soon made Sylvia look as she had seldom looked before. Her thickhair was piled high on her small and classical head; the white muslindress fitted close to her slim young figure; and when she stood close toEvelyn, and they prepared to go down-stairs together, Sylvia, even inher borrowed plumes, even in the dress which was practically a stolendress, looked fifty times more the heiress than the overdressed andawkward little real heiress.
When the girls reached the large central hall they both stopped. Audreywas standing near the log fire, and a group of bright and beautifullydressed children clustered round her. Two of the girls wore muslinfrocks; their hair, bright in color and very thick in quantity, hungdown below their waists. There were a couple of boys in the proverbialEton jackets; and another pair of girls of ordinary appearance, but withintelligent faces and graceful figures. Audrey gave a perceptible startwhen she saw her cousin and Sylvia coming to meet her. Just for aninstant Sylvia looked awkward. Audrey's eyes slightly dilated; then shecame slowly forward.
"Evelyn," she said, "may I introduce my special friends? This isHenrietta Jervice, and this is Juliet; and here is Arthur, and hereRobert. Can you remember so many names all at once? Oh, here are MaryClavering and Sophie.--Now, my dears," she added, turning and laughingback at the group, "you have all heard of Evelyn, have you not? Thisyoung lady is Miss Sylvia----"
"Sylvia Leeson," said Sylvia. A vivid color came into her cheeks; shedrew herself up tall and erect; her black eyes flashed an angry fire.
Audrey looked at her with a slow and puzzled expression. She certainlywas very handsome; but where had she got that dress? Sylvia seemed toread the thoughts in Audrey's heart. She bent towards her.
&
nbsp; "I will send it back next week. You were not in your room. It was timeto dress for dinner. I ran in and took it. If you cannot forgive me Iwill make an excuse to go up-stairs, and I will take it off and put itback again in your wardrobe, and I will slip home and no one will be thewiser. I know you meant to lend me a dress, for I could not come down inmy old rags; but if I have offended you past forgiveness I will goquietly away and no one will miss me."
"Stay," said Audrey coldly. She turned round and began to talk toHenrietta Jervice.
Henrietta laughed and chatted incessantly. She was a merry girl, andvery good-looking; she was tall for her age, which was between sixteenand 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. "Howdreadful--oh, how dreadful it is to have to live as I do! And I see byAudrey's face that she thinks that I have not the slightest idea how alady ought to act. Oh, it is terrible! But there, I will enjoy myselffor the nonce; I will--I vow it. Poor little Evelyn, however _gauche_ sheis, and however ridiculous, has small chance against Audrey. Even if sheis 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 lookedback 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 thesame.
"As if you meant to run swords into us all. But, all the same, I likeyour look. Are you staying here?"
"No," said Sylvia. "I live not far away. I have come here just for theday."
"Well, we shall see you to-morrow, of course. Mr. Wynford says we canskate 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 agood half-head above Sylvia, tall as she also was.
"May I ask you about things?" he said. "Who is that very, very funnylittle girl?"
"Do you mean Eve Wynford?"
"Perhaps that is her name. I mean the girl in white satin--the girl whowears a grown-up dress."
"She is Audrey Wynford's cousin."
"What! the Tasmanian? The one who is to----"
"Yes. Hush! she will hear us," said Sylvia.
The rustle of silk was heard on the stairs. Sylvia turned her head, andinstinctively hid just behind Arthur; and Lady Frances, accompanied byseveral other ladies, all looking very stately and beautiful, joined thegroup of young people. A great deal of chattering and laughter followed.Evelyn was in her element. She was not a scrap shy, and going up to heraunt, said in a confident way:
"I hope you like this dress, Aunt Frances. Jasper chose it for me inParis. It is quite Parisian, is it not? Don't you think it stylish?"
"Hush, Evelyn!" said Lady Frances in a peremptory whisper. "We do nottalk of dress except in our rooms."
Evelyn pouted and bit her lip. Then she saw Sylvia, whose eyes werewatching Lady Frances. Lady Frances also looked up and saw the tall andbeautiful girl at the same moment.
"Who is that girl?" she said, turning to Evelyn. "I don't know herface."
"Her name is Sylvia Leeson."
"Sylvia Leeson! Still I don't understand. Who is she?"
"A friend of mine," said Evelyn.
"My dear, how can you possibly have any friends in this place?"
"She is my friend, Aunt Frances. I found her wandering about out ofdoors, and I brought her in; and Audrey asked her to stay for the restof the day, and she is happy. She is very nice, Aunt Frances," saidEvelyn, looking up full in her aunt's face.
"That will do, dear."
Lady Frances went up to her daughter.
"Audrey," she said, "introduce me to Miss Leeson."
The introduction was made. Lady Frances held out her hand.
"I am glad to see you, Miss Leeson," she said.
A few minutes later the whole party found themselves clustered round thedinner-table. The children, by special request, sat all together. Theychattered and laughed heartily, and seemed to have a world of things tosay each to the other. Audrey, surrounded by her own special friends,looked her very best; she had a great deal of tact, and had long agobeen trained in the observances of society. She managed now, helped by awarning glance from her mother, to divide Sylvia and Evelyn. She putSylvia next to Arthur, who continued to chat to her, and to try to drawinformation from her. Evelyn sat between Robert and Sophie Clavering.Sophie was downright and blunt, and she made Evelyn laugh many times.Sylvia, too, was now quite at her ease. She contrived to fascinateArthur, who thought her quite the most lovely girl he had ever met.
"I wish you would come and skate to-morrow," he said, as the dinner wascoming to an end and the signal for the ladies to withdraw might beexpected at any moment. "I wish you would, Sylvia. I cannot see why youshould refuse. One has so little chance of skating in England that noone ought to be off the ice who knows how to skate when the weather issuitable. Cannot you come? Shall I ask Lady Frances if you may?"
"No, thank you," said Sylvia; then she added: "I long to skate just asmuch as you do, and I probably shall skate, although not on your pond;but there is a long reach of water just where the pond narrows andbeyond where the stream rushes away towards the river. I may skatethere. The water is nearly a mile in extent."
"Then I will meet you," said Arthur. "I will get Robert and Hennie tocome with me; Juliet will never stir from Audrey's side when she comesto Castle Wynford; but I'll make up a party and we can meet at thenarrow stretch. What do you call it?"
"The Yellow Danger," said Sylvia promptly.
"What a curious name! What does it mean?"
"I don't know; I have not been long enough in this neighborhood. Oh,there is Lady Frances rising from the table; I must go. If you do happento come to the Yellow Danger to-morrow I shall probably be there."
She nodded to him, and followed the rest of the ladies and the girls toone of the drawing-rooms.
Soon afterwards games of all sorts were started, and the children, andtheir elders as well, had a right merry time. There was no one smarterat guessing conundrums and proposing vigorous games of chance thanSylvia. The party was sufficiently large to divide itself into twogroups, and "clumps," amongst other games, was played with much laughterand vigor. Finally, the whole party wandered into the hall, where animpromptu dance was struck up, and in this also Sylvia managed to excelherself.
"Who is that remarkably graceful and handsome girl?" said Mrs. Jerviceto Lady Frances.
"My dear Agnes," was the answer, "I have not the slightest idea. She isa girl from the neighborhood; that terrible aborigine Evelyn picked herup. She certainly is handsome, and clever too; and she is well dressed.That dress she has on reminds me of one which I bought for Audrey inParis last year. I suppose the girl's people are very well off, for thatspecial kind of muslin, with its quantities of real lace, would not bein the possession of a poor girl. On the whole, I like the girl, but theway in which Evelyn has brought her into the house is beyond enduring."
"My Arthur has quite lost his heart to her," said Mrs. Jervice, with alaugh. "He said something to me about asking her to join our skatingparty to-morrow."
"Well, dear, I will make inquiries, and if she belongs to any nicepeople I will call on her mother if she happens to have one; but I makeit a rule to be very particular what girls Audrey becomes acquaintedwith."
"And you are quite right," said Mrs. Jervice. "Any one can see how verycarefully your Audrey has been brought up."
"She is a sweet girl," said the mother, "and repays me for all thetrouble I have taken with her; but what I shall do with Evelyn is aproblem, for
her uncle has put down his foot and declares that go toschool she shall not."
The ladies moved away, chatting as they did so. The music kept up itsmerry sounds; the young feet tripped happily over the polished floor;all went on gaily, and Sylvia felt herself in paradise. Warmed and fed,petted and surrounded by luxury, she looked a totally different creaturefrom the wild, defiant girl who had pushed past Audrey in order to havea hearty meal on New Year's Day.
But by and by the happy evening came to an end, and Sylvia ran up toEvelyn.
"It is time for me to go," she said. "I must say good night to LadyFrances; and then will you take me to your room just to change my dress,Evelyn?"
"Oh, what a nuisance you are!" said Evelyn. "I am not thinking of goingto bed yet."
"Yes; but you are at home, remember. I have to go to my home."
"Well, I do not see why I should go to bed an hour before I wish to. Dogo if you wish, Sylvia; I will see you another time. You will findJasper up-stairs, and she will do anything for you you want."
Sylvia said nothing more. She stood silent for a minute; then noticingLady Frances in the distance, she ran up to her.
"Good night, Lady Frances," she said; "and thank you very much."
"I am glad you have enjoyed yourself, Miss Leeson," said the lady. Shelooked full into the sparkling eyes, and suddenly felt a curious drawingtowards the girl. "Tell me where you live," she said, "and who yourmother is; I should like to have the pleasure of calling on her."
Sylvia's face suddenly became white. Her eyes took on a wild andstartled glance.
"I have no mother," she said slowly; "and please do not call, LadyFrances--please don't."
"As you please, of course," said Lady Frances in a very stiff tone. "Ionly thought----"
"I cannot explain. I cannot help what you think of me. I know I shallnot see you, perhaps, ever again--I mean, ever again like this," saidSylvia; "but thank you all the same."
She made a low courtesy, but did not even see the hand which LadyFrances was prepared to hold out. The next instant she was skimminglightly up-stairs.
"Audrey," said Lady Frances, turning to her daughter, "who is thatgirl?"
"I cannot tell you, mother. Her name is Sylvia Leeson. She livessomewhere near, I suppose."
"She is fairly well-bred, and undoubtedly handsome," said Lady Frances."I was attracted by her appearance, but when I asked her if I might callon her mother she seemed distressed. She said her mother was dead, andthat I was not to call."
"Poor girl!" said Audrey. "You upset her by talking about her mother,perhaps."
"I do not think that was it. Do you know anything at all about her,Audrey?"
"Nothing at all, mother, except that I suppose she lives in theneighborhood, and I am sure she is desperately poor."
"Poor, with that dress!" said Lady Frances. "My dear, you talk rubbish."
Audrey opened her lips as if to speak; then she shut them again.
"I think she is poor notwithstanding the dress," she said in a lowvoice. "But where is she? Has she gone?"
"She bade me good-night a minute ago and ran up-stairs."
"But Evelyn has not gone up-stairs. Has she let her go alone?"
"Just what I should expect of your cousin," said Lady Frances.
Audrey crossed the hall and went up to Evelyn's side.
"Do you notice that Sylvia has gone up-stairs?" she said. "Have you lether go alone?"
"Yes. Don't bother," said Evelyn.--"What are you saying, Bob?--that youcan cut the figure eight in----"
Audrey turned away with an expression of disgust. A moment later shesaid something to her friend Juliet and ran up-stairs herself.
"What are we to do with Evelyn?" was her thought.
The same thought was passing through the minds of almost all the matronspresent; but Evelyn herself imagined that she was most fascinating.
Audrey went to Evelyn's bedroom. There she saw Sylvia already arrayed inher ugly, tattered, and untidy dress. She looked like a different girl.She was pinning her battered sailor-hat on her head; the color had lefther cheeks, and her eyes were no longer bright. When she saw Audrey shepointed to the muslin dress, which was lying neatly folded on a chair.
"I am going to take it home; it shall be washed, and you shall have itback again."
"Never mind about that," answered Audrey; "I would rather you did nottrouble."
"Very well--as you like; and thank you, Miss Wynford, a hundred times. Ihave had a heavenly evening--something to live for. I shall live on thethoughts of it for many and many a day. Good night, Miss Wynford."
"But stay!" cried Audrey--"stay! It is nearly midnight. How are you goingto get home?"
"I shall get home all right," said Sylvia.
"You cannot go alone."
"Nonsense! Don't keep me, please."
Before Audrey had time to say a word Sylvia had rushed down-stairs. Aside-door was open, she ran out into the night. Audrey stood still for amoment; then she saw Jasper, who had come silently into the room.
"Follow that young lady immediately," she said. "Or, stay! Send one ofthe servants. The servant must find her and go home with her. I do notknow where she lives, but she cannot be allowed to go out by herself atthis hour of night."
Jasper ran down-stairs, and Audrey waited in Evelyn's pretty bedroom.Already there were symptoms all over the room of its new owner'spresence; a marked disarrangement of the furniture had already takenplace. The room, from being the very soul of order, seemed now torepresent the very spirit of unrest. Jasper came back, panting slightly.
"I sent a man after the young lady, miss, but she is nowhere to be seen.I suppose she knows how to find her way home."
Audrey was silent for a minute or two; then taking up the dress whichSylvia had worn, she hung it over her arm.
"Shall I take that back to your room, miss?"
"No, thank you; I will take it myself," replied the girl.
She walked slowly down the passage, descended some steps, and enteredher own pretty room in a distant wing. She opened her wardrobe and hungup the dress.
"I do hope one thing," thought Audrey. "Yes, I earnestly hope thatmother will never, never discover that poor Sylvia wore my dress. PoorSylvia! Who is she? Where does she live? What is she?"
Meanwhile Sylvia Leeson was walking fast through the dark and silentnight. She was not at all afraid; nor did she choose the frequentedpaths. On the contrary, after plunging through the shrubbery, shemounted a stile, got into a field, crossed it, squeezed through a hedgeat the farther end, and so, by devious paths and many unexpectedwindings, found herself at the entrance of a curious, old-fashionedhouse. The house was surrounded by thick yew-trees, which grew up almostto the windows. There was a wall round it, and the enclosed space withinwas evidently very confined. In the gleam of light which came now andthen through wintry, driving clouds, a stray flower-bed or a thickholly-bush was visible, but the entire aspect of the place was gloomy,neglected, and disagreeable in the extreme. Sylvia pushed a certainspring in the gate; it immediately opened, and she let herself in. Sheclosed the gate softly and silently behind her, and then, lookingeagerly around, began to approach the house. The house stood not thirtyyards from the gate. Sylvia now for the first time showed symptoms offear. Suddenly a big dog in a kennel near uttered a bay. She called hisname.
"Pilot, it is I," she said.
The dog ambled towards her; she put her hand on his neck, bent down, andkissed him on the forehead. He wagged his tail, and thrust his cold noseinto her hand. She then stood in a listening attitude, her head thrownback; presently, still holding the dog by the collar, she wentsoftly--very softly--round the house. She came to a low window, which wasprotected by some iron bars.
"Good night, Pilot," she said then. "Good night, darling; go back andguard the house."
The dog trotted swiftly and silently away. When he was quite out ofsight Sylvia put up her hand and removed one bar from the six whichstood in front of the window. A moment later the window ha
d been openedand the girl had crept within. When inside she pushed the bar which hadbeen previously loosened back into its place, shut the window softly,and crossing the room into which she had entered, stole up-stairs,trembling as she did so. Suddenly a door from above was opened, a lightstreamed across the passage, and a man's voice said:
"Who goes there?"
There was an instant's silence on the part of Sylvia. The voice repeatedthe question in a louder key.
"It is I, father," she answered. "I am going to bed. It is all right."
"You impertinent girl!" said the man. "Where have you been all thistime? I missed you at dinner; I missed you at supper. Where have youbeen?"
"Doing no harm, father. It is all right; it is really. Good night,father."
The light, however, did not recede from the passage. A man stood in theentrance to a room. Sylvia had to pass this man to get to her ownbedroom. She was thoroughly frightened now. She was shaking all over. Asshe approached, the man took up the candle he held and let its lightfall full on her face.
"Where have you been?" he said roughly.
"Out, father--out; doing no harm."
"What, my daughter--at this time of night! You know I cannot afford aservant; you know all about me, and yet you desert me for hours andhours. Aren't you ashamed of yourself? You have been out of doors allthis long time and supper ready for you on the table! Oatmeal andskimmed milk--an excellent meal; a princess could not desire better. I amkeeping it for your breakfast. You shall have no supper now; you deserveto go to bed supper-less, and you shall. What a disgraceful mess yourdress is in!"
"There has been snow, and it is wintry and cold outside," repliedSylvia; "and I am not hungry. Good night, father."
"You think to get over me like that! You have no pity for me; you are amost heartless girl. You shall not stir from here until you tell mewhere you have been."
"Then I will tell you, father. I know you'll be angry, but I cannot helpit. There is such a thing as dying for want of--oh, not for want of food,and not for want of clothes--for want of pleasure, fun, life, the joy ofbeing alive. I did go, and I am not ashamed."
"Where?" asked the man.
"I went to Wynford Castle. I have spent the evening there. Now, you maybe as angry as you please, but you shall not scold me; no, not a worduntil the morning."
With a sudden movement the girl flitted past the angry man. The nextinstant she had reached her room. She opened the door, shut it behindher, and locked herself in. When she was quite alone she pulled off herhat, and got with frantic speed out of her wet jacket; then she claspedher hands high above her head.
"How am I to bear it! What have I done that I should be so miserable?"she thought.
She flung herself across the bare, uninviting bed, and lay there forsome time sobbing heavily. All the joy and animation had left her youngframe; all the gaiety had departed from her. But presently herpassionate sobs came to an end; she undressed and got into bed.
She was bitterly--most bitterly--cold, and it was a long time before themeager clothes which covered her brought any degree of warmth to herframe. But by-and-by she did doze off into a troubled slumber. In hersleep she dreamt of her mother--her mother who was dead.
She awoke presently, and opening her eyes in the midst of the darkness,the thought of her dream came back to her. She remembered a certainnight in her life when she had been awakened suddenly to say good-by toher mother. The mother had asked the father to leave the child alonewith her.
"You will be always good to him, Sylvia?" she said then. "You will humorhim and be patient. I hand my work on to you. It was too much for me,and God is taking me away, but I pass it on to you. If you promise totake the burden and carry it, and not to fail, I shall die happy. Willyou, Sylvia--will you?"
"What am I to do, mother?" asked the child. She was a girl of fourteenthen.
"This," said the mother: "do not leave him whatever happens."
"Do you mean it, mother? He may go away from here; he may go into thecountry; he may--do anything. He may become worse--not better. Am I neverto be educated? Am I never to be happy? Do you mean it?"
The dying woman looked solemnly at the eager child.
"I mean it," she said; "and you must promise me that you will not leavehim whatever happens."
"Then I promise you, mother," Sylvia had said.
