uth and beauty that the ladies
paused in their talk to look at her. Some few admired Kitty's governess
with generous interest; the greater number doubted Mrs. Linley's
prudence in engaging a girl so very pretty and so very young. Little
by little, Sydney's manner--simple, modest, shrinking from
observation--pleaded in her favor even with the ladies who had been
prejudiced against her at the outset. When Mrs. Linley presented her
to the guests, the most beautiful woman among them (Mrs. MacEdwin) made
room for her on the sofa, and with perfect tact and kindness set the
stranger at her ease. When the gentlemen came in from the dinner-table,
Sydney was composed enough to admire the brilliant scene, and to wonder
again, as she had wondered already, what Mr. Linley would say to her new
dress.

Mr. Linley certainly did notice her--at a distance.

He looked at her with a momentary fervor of interest and admiration
which made Sydney (so gratefully and so guiltlessly attached to him)
tremble with pleasure; he even stepped forward as if to approach her,
checked himself, and went back again among his guests. Now, in one part
of the room, and now in another, she saw him speaking to them. The one
neglected person whom he never even looked at again, was the poor girl
to whom his approval was the breath of her life. Had she ever felt so
unhappy as she felt now? No, not even at her aunt's school!

Friendly Mrs. MacEdwin touched her arm. "My dear, you are losing your
pretty color. Are you overcome by the heat? Shall I take you into the
next room?"

Sydney expressed her sincere sense of the lady's kindness. Her
commonplace excuse was a true excuse--she had a headache; and she asked
leave to retire to her room.

Approaching the door, she found herself face to face with Mr. Linley.
He had just been giving directions to one of the servants, and was
re-entering the drawing-room. She stopped, trembling and cold; but,
in the very intensity of her wretchedness, she found courage enough to
speak to him.

"You seem to avoid me, Mr. Linley," she began, addressing him with
ceremonious respect, and keeping her eyes on the ground. "I hope--"
she hesitated, and desperately looked at him--"I hope I haven't done
anything to offend you?"

In her knowledge of him, up to that miserable evening, he constantly
spoke to her with a smile. She had never yet seen him so serious and so
inattentive as he was now. His eyes, wandering round the room, rested