“Well,” said Katherine, with a sigh of deep content, as she went wearily up the stairs leaning on Migwan’s shoulder, “well, this is the end of a perfect day!”
CHAPTER XXI
FATHER AND DAUGHTER
In the morning Sylvia was so much better that Nyoda allowed her to sit up out of bed, and there, sitting beside the wheel chair which was to be the throne of the little princess all her life, she told Sylvia the story of her parentage. For a moment Sylvia sat as if turned to stone; then with a cry of unbelieving ecstasy, she clasped the picture of Sylvia Warrington to her heart.
“My mother!”
Nyoda stole out softly and left the two of them together.
* * * * * * *
Later on in the afternoon there was a lively bustle of preparation in Sylvia’s room. The great carved armchair that had served as throne on the night of the party had been brought up from the library, and once more covered with its purple velvet draperies. Sylvia, whose romantic fancy had seized eagerly upon the immense dramatic possibilities of the occasion, had insisted upon being arrayed as the princess when her father should come in to see her.
“The king is coming! The king is coming!” she exclaimed every few moments. “Array me in my most splendid robes, for my royal father, the king, is coming!”
Thrills of excitement, like little needle pricks, ran up and down her spine; her whole being seemed alight with some wonderful inner radiance, that shone through the flesh and transfigured it with unearthly beauty.
Nyoda brought the fairy-like white dress and draped it about her, playing the rôle of lady-in-waiting with spirit. Every time she passed before Sylvia she bowed low; she made the Winnebagos stand up in a line and pass in the bracelets from hand to hand; she herself brought in the crown on a cushion, and placed it upon Sylvia’s head with much ceremony.