Читать книгу Sydney Lisle, the Heiress of St. Quentin онлайн

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Perhaps it was as well, for she was spared not only the lawyer’s visit, but the telling of the dreadful story to the others—the children’s questions, and what she would have minded more, the sight of Hugh’s face, first fierce and then very white.

But she cried herself to sleep upstairs, while Mr. Fenton in the drawing-room was inflicting on the silent doctor a description of the “splendid position” to which his little Sydney, the child who had been as his own for nearly eighteen long years, had been called.

He suddenly broke in upon the lawyer’s well-turned phrases, leaning forward and speaking almost roughly to him.

“You tell me of the age of the title—of the magnificence of the castle—I don’t want to hear all that! There is only one thing that I want to know—my little girl, will they be good to her? Will she be happy?”

Mr. Fenton considered this question for some minutes before answering it. When he came to think of it, it was not such a very easy one to answer.

“Miss Lisle will have, I trust, every reason to be happy,” he replied at length; “every advantage will be hers, and a splendid, yes, undoubtedly, a splendid position.”