“Who goes there?”
There was an instant’s silence on the part of Sylvia. The voice repeated the question in a louder key.
“It is I, father,” she answered. “I am going to bed. It is all right.”
“You impertinent girl!” said the man. “Where have you been all this time? I missed you at dinner; I missed you at supper. Where have you been?”
“Doing no harm, father. It is all right; it is really. Good night, father.”
The light, however, did not recede from the passage. A man stood in the entrance to a room. Sylvia had to pass this man to get to her own bedroom. She was thoroughly frightened now. She was shaking all over. As she approached, the man took up the candle he held and let its light fall full on her face.
“Where have you been?” he said roughly.
“Out, father—out; doing no harm.”
“What, my daughter—at this time of night! You know I cannot afford a servant; you know all about me, and yet you desert me for hours and hours. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? You have been out of doors all this long time and supper ready for you on the table! Oatmeal and skimmed milk—an excellent meal; a princess could not desire better. I am keeping it for your breakfast. You shall have no supper now; you deserve to go to bed supper-less, and you shall. What a disgraceful mess your dress is in!”
“There has been snow, and it is wintry and cold outside,” replied Sylvia; “and I am not hungry. Good night, father.”