I lay awake for many hours, watching the flickering of the firelight, and listening for the striking of a large clock in the hall, whose deep, sonorous voice could be heard in every part of the great house.
The next morning I awoke before it was light, and had been dressed for more than an hour before Clemence came to conduct me to her young mistress's dressing-room. I found Evelyn lying on a sofa by the dressing-room fire, in a pretty pink dressing-gown, and with her fair hair hanging down in long waving tresses. She looked a perfect picture, I thought, and one that any artist would take pleasure in painting. She seemed pleased to see me, but was languid and tired, and not so much inclined for talking as she had been the night before.
Breakfast was brought up soon after I arrived, and, whilst we were eating it, the door opened, and an elderly gentleman came in. He had evidently been very handsome in his younger days, and there was a cheerful, pleasant, good-tempered expression on his face, which made him look younger than I imagine he really was.
"Oh, papa," said Evelyn, brightening up the moment that she saw him, "I am so glad you have come! How naughty of you not to come last night! I wanted you so much to see Miss Lindsay—May, I call her now," she added, laughing.
Sir William shook hands with me very kindly, and said he hoped I should soon feel at home, and that his little daughter would not wear me out with her chattering.
"Now, papa, what nonsense!" said Evelyn, gaily. "May was at home when she had been here ten minutes, were you not, May? And she likes chattering just as much as I do. You talk just as if she was the brown alpaca I told you about. But she is not a bit like her; she is so nice, papa, and we get on together famously."
"That's right," said Sir William, seating himself on the sofa; "and how is my little puss this morning?"
"Only a little tired, papa," she said, wearily; "the pain kept me awake last night."
He looked at her very anxiously, I thought, as he stooped over her, and gently arranged her pillows, as carefully and tenderly as any woman could have done.
"Keep very quiet this morning, little girl," he said; "I will not let any of them come near you. Miss Lindsay will read to you, and you can lie quite still."