“So you are Sydney?” Lord St. Quentin said.

What Sydney saw, as she returned his steady gaze, was a tall man, lying very nearly flat, his head only just raised by a small pillow. His hair was dark brown like her own and his eyes grey; but there the likeness ceased. The face was thin, the mouth cynical, and the sharp line drawn down the middle of his forehead made it strangely different from the girl’s smooth one.

What he saw was a slight girl dressed in white, looking taller than she really was by reason of her slenderness, with a cloud of soft brown hair framing her face and hanging in a long tail down her back; and earnest, pitying, dark grey eyes fixed upon him. They looked at each other in silence for a full minute; then St. Quentin released her hand and pointed to a low chair by his side.

“You had a cold journey?”

“Not very cold,” said Sydney shyly.

There was a pause. St. Quentin was frowning. Sydney felt that she ought to originate a subject in her turn.

“I hope you are better to-day, Lord St. Quentin?” she got out with an effort.

[49]

[49]

Lord St. Quentin stopped frowning, in surprise.

“Thanks, I’m all right,” he said shortly; then added with half a smile, “Drop the ‘Lord,’ please—we are cousins!”

“Well, Sydney, so you and St. Quentin have made acquaintance already?” Lady Frederica exclaimed, coming down the stairs as the gong began to sound with a roar like distant thunder. “How clever of you to find each other out! How are you now, my dear boy? Dickson told me you were ‘rather low’: how I hate that expression in the mouth of servants! It always means ill-tempered. Now, my maid can never say I’m ‘low,’ at all events. I make a point of never giving way to low spirits. Ah, Mr. Fenton,” as the old lawyer came into the circle of fire-light, “here you are!—punctual as usual! I have just been telling St. Quentin he shouldn’t give way to low spirits; a mistake, isn’t it? I suppose you will dine in the library, St. Quentin? Shall we see you again to-night?”

“You might come to me in the library for five minutes after dinner, if you will, Aunt Rica,” he answered rather moodily. “I won’t keep you. Good-night, Sydney.”

“Good-night, 

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