“Who are you, and what are you doing here?”
Evelyn stared for a moment at the strange girl, then burst into a hearty laugh.
“Do tell me—quick, quick!—are you one of the Wynfords?” she asked.
“I a Wynford!” cried Sylvia. “I only wish I were. Are you a Wynford? Do you live at the Castle?”
“Do I live at the Castle!” cried Evelyn. “Why, the Castle is mine—I mean it will be when Uncle Ned dies. I came here yesterday; and, oh! I am miserable, and I want Jasper?”
“Who is Jasper?”
“My maid. Such a darling!—the only person here who cares in the least for me. Oh, please, please tell me your name! If you do not live at the Castle, and if you can assure me from the bottom of your heart that you do not love any one—any one who lives in the Castle—why, I will love you. You are sweetly pretty! What is your name?”
“Sylvia Leeson. I live three miles from here, but I adore the Castle. I should like to come here often.”
“You adore it! Then that is because you know nothing about it. Do you adore Audrey?”
“Is Audrey the young lady of the Castle?”