to run in order to get away from what she called the disagreeable noise.
Audrey could run with the speed and grace of a young fawn, but she had not gone half-through the shrubbery before she stopped dead-short. A girl of about her own age was coming hurriedly to meet her. She was a very pretty girl, with black eyes and a quantity of black hair and a richly colored dark face. The girl was dressed somewhat fantastically in many colors. Peeping out from beneath her old-fashioned jacket was a scarf of deep yellow; the skirt of her dress was crimson, and in her hat she wore two long crimson feathers. Audrey regarded her with not only wonder but also disfavor. Who was she? What a vulgar, forward, insufferable young person!
“I say,” cried the girl, coming up eagerly; “I have lost my way, and it is so important! Can you tell me how I can get to the front entrance of the Castle?”
“You ought not to have come by the shrubbery,” said Audrey in a very haughty tone. “The visitors who come to the Castle to-day are expected to use the avenue. But now that you have come,” she added, “if you will take this short cut you will find yourself in the right direction. You have then but to follow the stream of people and you will reach the hall door.”
“Oh, thank you!” said the girl. “I am so awfully hungry! I do hope I shall get in before sunset. Good-by, and thank you so much! My name is Sylvia Leeson; who are you?”
“I am Audrey Wynford,” replied Audrey, speaking more icily than ever.
“Then you are the young lady of the Castle?”
“I am Audrey Wynford.”
“How strange! One would think to meet you here, and one would think to see me here, that we both belonged to Shakespeare’s old play As You Like It. But I must not stay another minute. It is so sweet of your father to invite us all, and if I am not quick I shall lose the fun.”
She nodded with a flash of bright eyes and white teeth at the amazed Audrey, and the next moment was lost to view.
“What a girl!” thought Audrey as she pursued her walk. “How dared she! She did not treat me with one scrap of respect, and she seemed to think – a girl of that sort! – that she was my equal; she absolutely spoke of us in the same breath. It was almost insulting. Sylvia and Audrey! We meet in a wood, and we might be characters out of As You Like It. Well, she is awfully pretty, but – Oh dear! what a creature she is when all is said and done – that wild dress, and those dancing eyes, and that free manner! And yet – and yet she was scarcely vulgar; she was only – only different from anybody else. Who is she, and where does she come from? Sylvia Leeson. Rather a pretty name; and certainly a pretty girl. But to think of her partaking of hospitality – all alone, too – with the canaille of Wynford!”
CHAPTER II. – ARRIVAL OF EVELYN
Audrey met her governess at the lodge gates, and the two plunged down a side-path, and were soon making for the wonderful moors about a mile away from Wynford Castle.
“What are you thinking about, Audrey?” said Miss Sinclair.
“Do you happen to know,” said Audrey, “any people in the village or neighborhood of the name of Leeson?”
“No, dear, certainly not. I do not think any people of the name live here. Why do you ask?”
“For such a funny reason!” replied Audrey. “I met a girl who had come by mistake through the shrubberies. She was on her way to the Castle to get a good meal. She told me her name was Sylvia Leeson. She was pretty in an outré sort of style; she was also very free. She had the cheek to compare herself with me, and said that as my name was Audrey and hers Sylvia we ought to be two of Shakespeare’s heroines. There was something uncommon about her. Not that I liked her – very far from that. But I wonder who she is.”
“I don’t know,” said Miss Sinclair. “I certainly have not the least idea that there is any one of that name living in our neighborhood, but one can never tell.”
“Oh, but you know everybody round here,” said Audrey. “Perhaps she is a stranger. I think on the whole I am glad.”
“I heard a week ago that some people had taken The Priory,” said Miss Sinclair.
“The Priory!” cried Audrey. “It has been uninhabited ever since I can remember.”
“I heard the rumor,” continued Miss Sinclair, “but I know no particulars, and it may not be true. It is just possible that this girl belongs to them.”
“I should like to find out,” replied Audrey. “She certainly interested me although – Oh, well, don’t let us talk of her any more. Jenny dear” – Audrey in affectionate moments called her governess by her Christian name – “are you not anxious to know what Evelyn is like?”
“I suppose I am,” replied Miss Sinclair.
“I think of her so much!” continued Audrey. “It seems so odd that she, a stranger, should be the heiress, and I, who have lived here all my days, should inherit nothing. Oh, of course, I shall have plenty of money, for mother had such a lot; but it does seem so unaccountable that all father’s property should go to Evelyn. And now she is to live here, and of course take the precedence of me, I do not know that I quite like it. Sometimes I feel that she will rub me the wrong way; if she is very masterful, for instance. She can be – can’t she, Jenny?”
“But why should we suppose that she will be?” replied Miss Sinclair. “There is no good in getting prejudiced beforehand.”
“I cannot help thinking about it,” said Audrey. “You know I have never had any close companions before, and although you make up for everybody else, and I love you with all my heart and soul, yet it is somewhat exciting to think of a girl just my own age coming to live with me.”
“Of course, dear; and I am so glad for your sake!”
“But then,” continued Audrey, “she does not come quite as an ordinary guest; she comes to the home which is to be hers hereafter. I wonder what her ideas are, and what she will feel about things. It is very mysterious. I am excited; I own it. You may be quite sure, though, that I shall not show any of my excitement when Evelyn does come. Jenny, have you pictured her yet to yourself? Do you think she is tall or short, or pretty or ugly, or what?”
“I have thought of her, of course,” replied Miss Sinclair; “but I have not formed the least idea. You will soon know, Audrey; she is to arrive in time for dinner.”
“Yes,” said Audrey; “mother is going in the carriage to meet her, and the train is due at six-thirty. She will arrive at the Castle a little before seven. Mother says she will probably bring a maid, and perhaps a French governess. Mother does not know herself what sort she is. It is odd her having lived away from England all this time.”
Audrey chatted on with her governess a little longer, and presently they turned and went back to the house. The sun had already set, and the big front-door was shut; the family never used it except on this special day or when a wedding or a funeral left Wynford Castle. The pretty side-door, with its sheltered porch, was the mode of exit and ingress for the inhabitants of Wynford Castle. Audrey and her governess now entered, and Audrey stood for a few moments to warm her hands by the huge log fire on the hearth. Miss Sinclair went slowly up-stairs to her room; and Audrey, finding herself alone, gave a quick sigh.
“I wonder – I do wonder,” she said half-aloud.
Her words were evidently heard, for some one stirred, and presently a tall man with a slight stoop came forward and stood where the light of the big fire fell all over him.
“Why, dad!” cried Audrey as she put her hand inside her father’s arm. “Were you asleep?” she asked. “How was it that Miss Sinclair and I did not see you when we came in?”
“I was sound asleep in that big chair. I was somewhat tired. I had received three hundred guests; don’t forget that,” replied Squire Wynford.
“And they have gone. What a comfort!” said Audrey.
“My dear little Audrey, I have fed them and warmed