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

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“Miss Lisle is very tired, I fear,” suggested Mr. Fenton, looking kindly at the girl. “I think, if I might suggest it, a little rest before dinner.... I hear her maid arriving now, I believe.”

“Well, come with me, my dear, and see your room,” said Lady Frederica graciously, laying her hand upon Sydney’s shoulder. “Mr. Fenton, be an angel, and go in and talk to St. Quentin. He is in the library and as irritable as can be. I really can’t go near him till he’s in a better humour. Come, Sydney.”

They went together up the wide, shallow staircase, guarded at its foot by two highly realistic-looking stuffed bears—shot by the present marquess in the Rockies some years ago, Lady Frederica explained, in answer to the girl’s shy admiration.

She had not time to look at the magnificent collection of sheathed rapiers which adorned the walls of the long corridor through which they next passed. Lady Frederica hurried her along, remarking that she would have plenty of time for studying all “those tiresome old historic treasures” by-and-by.