"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.

"We agreed, did we not," she said, "that we both were to go our own way.

You must not question me too closely. I have done nothing wrong-nothing; I am always faithful to you and to my mother's memory. You must not expect me to tell you everything, father, for you know you do not tell me everything."

"Silly child!" he answered. "But there, Sylvia, I do trust you. And, my dear little girl, know this, that you are the great-the very greatest-comfort of my life. I will come in; it is somewhat chilly this evening."

Sylvia rushed before her father into his sitting-room, dashed up to the fire, flung on some bits of wood and what sc.r.a.ps of coal were left in the coal-hod, thrust in a torn newspaper, set a match to the fire she had hastily laid, and before Mr. Leeson strolled languidly into the room, a cheerful fire was crackling and blazing up the chimney.

"How extravagant--" he began, but when he saw Sylvia's pretty face as she knelt on the hearth the words were arrested on his lips.

"The child is very like her mother, and her mother was the most beautiful woman on earth when I married her," he thought. "Poor little Sylvia! I wonder will she have a happier fate!"

He sat down by the fire. The girl knelt by him, took his cold hands, and rubbed them softly. Her heart was full; there were tears in her eyes.

CHAPTER XVII.-THE FALL IN THE SNOW.

The next morning, when the meager breakfast which Mr. Leeson and his daughter enjoyed together had come to an end, Sylvia ran off to find Jasper. She had stayed with her father during most of the preceding evening, and although she had gone as usual to drink her chocolate and eat her bread before going to bed, she had said very little to Jasper.

But she wanted to speak to her this morning, for she had thoughts in the night, and those thoughts were driving her to decisive action. Jasper was standing in the kitchen. She had made up the fire with the smokeless coal, and it was burning slowly but steadily. A little, plump chicken lay on the table; a small piece of bacon was close at hand. There was also a pile of large and mealy-looking potatoes and some green vegetables.

"Our dinner for to-day," said Jasper briefly.

"Oh Jasper!" answered the girl-"oh, if only father could have some of that chicken! Do you know, I do not think he is at all well; he looked so cold and feeble last night. He really is starving himself-very much as I starved myself before you came; but he is old and cannot bear it quite so well. What am I to do to keep him alive?"

Jasper looked full at Sylvia.

"Do!" she said. "How can a fool be cured of his folly? That is the question I ask myself. If he denies himself the necessaries of life, how are you to give them to him?"

"Well," said Sylvia, "I manage as best I can by hardly ever eating in his presence; he does not notice, particularly at breakfast. He enjoyed his egg and toast this morning, and really said nothing about my unwonted extravagance."

"I have a plan in my head," said Jasper, "which may or may not come to anything. You know those few miserable barn-door fowls which your father keeps just by the shrubbery in that old hen-house?"

"Yes," replied Sylvia.

"Do they ever lay any eggs?"

"No."

"I thought not. I wonder a prudent, careful man like Mr. Leeson should keep them eating their heads off, so to speak."

"Oh, they don't eat much," replied Sylvia. "I got them when father spoke so much about the wasted potato-skins. I bought them from a gipsy. I did not know they were so old."

"We must get rid of those fowls," said Jasper. "You must tell your father that it is a great waste of money to keep them; and, my dear, we will give him fowl to eat for his dinner as long as the old fowls in the shrubbery last. There are ten of them. I shall sell them-very little indeed we shall get for them-and he will imagine he is eating them when he really is consuming a delicate little bird like the one you and I are going to enjoy for our dinner to-day."

"What fun!" said Sylvia, the color coming into her cheeks and her eyes sparkling. "You do not think it is wrong to deceive him, do you?"

"Wrong! Bless you! no," replied Jasper. "And now, my dear, what is the matter with you? You look--"