"Yes," was the answer; "what is your wish, Miss Edith?"
"That you would come and sit with me a while."
"What time is it!"
"I know not; but, by the stars, it should be little after midnight."
"Return to your room, and I will soon be there with a light," answered the one called Sylva.
The young girl did as requested, and sank down in a large arm-chair which nearly concealed her in its soft cushions. Presently the small side-door opened, and Sylva entered, bearing an astral lamp and a few light pieces of kindling wood.
"O, I don't mind a fire!" said Miss Edith.
"Well, I do," answered the woman; "you would catch your death, up here half the night with no fire."
"'Tis a cold place we are come to, isn't it Sylva?" said the young lady, springing from her chair and wrapping an elegant cashmere dressing-gown, lined with azure satin, round her tall, delicate figure, and then again sinking down among the soft velvet cushions of her spacious fauteuil.
"Yes, Miss Edith, it is, indeed," answered Sylva, as she lighted a bright fire in the polished grate. "How your father expects to rear so fragile a bud in this bleak region I do not know."