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

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“Lady Frederica sits in the gold drawing-room this week, ma’am,” Ward said, guessing the reason of the girl’s perplexity; “the second door to the right of the inner hall. Shall I come with you to the stairs, ma’am?” she added, rising.

Sydney thanked her warmly. “I am a little afraid of losing myself here,” she said shyly, at which Ward smiled condescendingly, and said that “Miss Lisle would soon be quite accustomed to the Castle.”

She took the girl to the head of the wide stairs, reiterated her instructions, and let Sydney to go down the stairs and through the sombre splendour of the hall, alone.

Although lit by many antique hanging lamps, its immensity made it rather dark, and the suits of armour standing in the corners had a very ghost-like appearance. Sydney crossed the black polished floor as fast as its slipperiness would allow, and was about to open the second door on the right, according to her maid’s instructions, when a voice spoke, not loud, but imperatively, “Are you Sydney?”