“I wonder how she will like it,” thought Audrey. “This is one of the prettiest rooms in the house. Mother said she must have it. I wonder if she will like it, and if I shall like her. Oh, and here is her dressing-room, and here is a little boudoir where she may sit and amuse herself and shut us out if she chooses. Lucky Evelyn! How strange it all seems! For the first time I begin to appreciate my darling, beloved home. Why should it pass away from me to her? Oh, of course I am not jealous; I would not be mean enough to entertain feelings of that sort, and—— I hear the sound of wheels. She is coming; in a moment I shall see her. Oh, I do wonder—I do wonder! I wish Jenny were with me; I feel quite nervous.”
Audrey dashed out of the room, rushed down the winding stairs, and had just entered the hall when a footman pushed aside the heavy curtains, and Lady Frances Wynford, a handsome, stately-looking woman, entered, accompanied by a small girl.
The girl was dragging in a great pile of rugs and wraps. Her hat was askew on her head, her jacket untidy. She flung the rugs down in the center of a rich Turkey carpet; said, “There, that is a relief;” and then looked full at Audrey.
Audrey was a head and shoulders taller than the heiress, who had thin and somewhat wispy flaxen hair, and a white face with insignificant features. Her eyes, however, were steady, brown, large, and intelligent. She came up to Audrey at once.
“Don’t introduce me, please, Aunt Frances,” she said. “I know this is Audrey.—I am Evelyn. You hate me, don’t you?”
“No, I am sure I do not,” said Audrey.
“Well, I should if I were you. It would be much more interesting to be hated. So this is the place. It looks jolly, does it not? Aunt Frances, do you know where my maid is? I must have her—I must have her at once. Please tell Jasper to come here,” continued the girl, turning to a man-servant who lingered in the background.
“Desire Miss Wynford’s maid to come into the hall,” said Lady Frances in an imperious tone; “and bring tea, Davis. Be quick.”
The man withdrew, and Evelyn, lifting her hand, took off her ugly felt hat and flung it on the pile of rugs and cushions.
“Don’t touch them, please,” she said as Audrey advanced. “That is Jasper’s work.—By the way, Aunt Frances, may Jasper sleep in my room? I have never slept alone, not since I was born, and I could not survive it. I want a little bed just the ditto of my own for Jasper. I cannot live without Jasper. May she sleep close to me, please, Aunt Frances? And, oh! I do hope and trust this house is not haunted. It does look eerie. I am terrified at the thought of ghosts. I know I shall not be a very pleasant inmate, and I am sorry for you all—and for you in special, Audrey. What a grand, keep-your-distance sort of air you have! But I am not going to be afraid of you. I do not forget that the place will belong to me some day. Hullo, Jasper!”