d been in England,
and she had had the most delightful time travelling about with him. He
always declared that he was a poor man, that tea was doing so
disgracefully badly, that he expected to retire into the workhouse in
the course of the next year, but, all the same, he never appeared to be
short of money, and the travelling was done in the most comfortable and
luxurious of fashions. Sylvia was his only child, and in his eyes was
the most beautiful and accomplished creature in the world, so that it
was a trying experience to be domiciled with an elderly maiden aunt,
whose ideas were as early Victorian as her furniture, who had forgotten
what it felt like to be young, and was continually aggrieved because her
niece had not learned to be old.

During the long year of idleness Sylvia had cherished the idea that her
father would take her back to Ceylon, when she would reign as Queen of
the Bungalow, charm the hearts of the coolies by her beauty and dignity,
pay frequent visits to Kandy, and become one of the favourites of
society; but when it came to the point it appeared that he had no
intention of the sort. In two or three years he hoped to be able to
settle in England, and meantime his ambition for his daughter demanded
that she should remain at home and devote her time to music, for which
she showed an unusual talent. If he had other reasons he kept them to
himself, but as a matter of fact he dreaded a possible marriage abroad,
which would condemn the girl to a life of separation from so much that
is good and pleasant, and if any qualms arose as to the cheerfulness of
the home in which he was leaving her, he consoled himself by the
reflection that he would be able to make up for temporary deprivations
in the years to come.

Mr Trevor sailed off to the East, and Sylvia took up her abode at
Number 6 Rutland Road, in an unfashionable suburb in the north of
London, and settled down to being a "good industrious girl" with what
grace she might. She did not understand Aunt Margaret, and Aunt
Margaret felt it a decided trial to have her sleepy home invaded by a
restless young creature, who was never so happy as when she was singing
at the pitch of her voice, rushing up and down stairs, and playing silly
schoolboy tricks; but fate had ordained that they were to live together,
and they had jogged along more or less peacefully until that unlucky day
when the girl had sickened for her dangerous illness. Then, indeed,
Aunt