Evelyn flitted in a curious, elf-like way across the hall, and went up to a dark woman who stood just by the velvet curtain.
“Don’t be shy, Jasper,” she said. “You have nothing to be afraid of here. It is all very grand, I know; but then it is to be mine some day, and you are never to leave me—never. I was speaking to my aunt, Lady Frances, and you are to have your little bed near mine. See that it is arranged for to-night. And now, please, pick up these rugs and cushions and my old hat, and take them to my room. Don’t stare so, Jasper; do what I tell you.”
Jasper somewhat sullenly obeyed. She was as graceful and deft in all her actions as Evelyn was the reverse. Evelyn stood and watched her. When she went slowly up the marble stairs, the heiress turned with a laugh to her two companions.
“How you stare!” she said; and she looked full at Audrey. “Do you regard me as barbarian, or a wild beast, or what?”
“I am interested in you,” said Audrey in her low voice. “You are decidedly out of the common.”
“Come,” said Lady Frances, “we have no time for analyzing character just now. Audrey, take your cousin to her room, and then go yourself and get dressed for dinner.”
“Will you come, Evelyn?” said Audrey.
She crossed the hall, Evelyn following her slowly. Once or twice the heiress stopped to examine a mailed figure in armor, or an old picture on which the firelight cast a fitful gleam. She said, “How ugly! A queer old thing, that!” to the figure in armor, and she scowled up at the picture.
“You are not going to frighten me, you old scarecrow,” she said; and then she ran up-stairs by Audrey’s side.
“So this is what they call English grandeur!” she remarked. “Is not this house centuries old?”