Sydney saw considerably less of her cousin after the arrival of Sir Algernon.
He announced that he had come to spend Christmas, much to the relief of Lady Frederica, who declared it would be “such a comfort to have somebody to amuse St. Quentin.” He himself acquiesced in the arrangement without saying much, or expressing pleasure or the reverse.
The new inmate of the Castle was distinctly an addition to its liveliness. He and Lady Frederica had several acquaintances in common, and Sydney and Miss Osric, sitting quietly at the dinner-table, found their ideas of various distinguished persons most uncomfortably disarranged. Sir Algernon had a knack, however, of suiting his conversation to his company. When he overtook Sydney and her governess
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 returning from taking soup to a sick child in the village, he walked between them, talking very pleasantly of the historical associations and romantic stories connected with St. Quentin Castle—a subject particularly interesting to Sydney, who was beginning to feel a certain pride in the past of the grand old house to which she belonged.
It may be presumed that his conversation pleased St. Quentin also, for his guest was shut up with him a good deal in the library, smoking and talking.
In other ways besides amusing conversation, Sir Algernon’s presence was a boon to the ladies. He was a first-rate whip, and the four-in-hand which St. Quentin used to drive was had out from the stables—where it and his shattered motor-car had stood so long idle together—for the benefit of Sir Algernon. He took Lady Frederica and Sydney out in it: one day they even went as far as Donisbro’ and lunched at the principal hotel there.
Sydney wished to lunch at the Deanery, that she might return a book Miss Morrell had lent her, but this Lady Frederica would not allow.
“If you will solemnly swear not to go into the Deanery drawing-room on any excuse
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 whatsoever, I shall be delighted to escort you to the door, Miss Lisle,” Sir Algernon suggested good-naturedly, noticing the way her face fell at Lady Frederica’s refusal. “We shouldn’t take above twenty minutes getting there and back, if you only leave the book at the door. If Lady Frederica will allow us, we will go directly after lunch, while she is choosing those cards she spoke of.”
Lady Frederica agreed readily enough to this arrangement, and the two set out together when their lunch was over, with a parting direction on her part, “Be sure you hurry, for the afternoons are so short, and we must start early on our homeward drive.”
They left the parcel with the Deanery footman, and retraced their steps through the Close and up the steep High Street of Donisbro’.
The shops were very gay with Christmas cards and presents: Sir Algernon inquired if Miss Lisle still retained a taste for turkey and plum-pudding? She answered absently, for the Christmas preparations brought back home with a painful clearness. She thought of the shopping expeditions which became so many as Christmas Eve drew on, and the numberless secrets with which the tall old
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 house seemed packed from garret to cellar, and the wild excitement of Christmas Eve; when all the boys and girls who might be trusted to be quite conformable, went out to see the brilliant show of Christmas shops under the guardianship of Hugh and Mildred.
“What’s the girl thinking of?” Sir Algernon asked himself, a little piqued, for he was not used to having his remarks received with inattention or indifference.
Then suddenly a light dawned on him, for Sydney’s eyes, which had been fixed rather absently upon the sloppy pavement before her, grew bright with recognition. She broke into a cry of joy, and in a second had sprung forward to seize both the outstretched hands of a young man, who was hurrying down the street towards her. “Oh, Hugh! Hugh!”
“By Jove!” Sir Algernon let out between his teeth, as he stood aside, forgotten by both.
“Hugh! what are you doing at Donisbro’?”
“Sir Anthony had an operation to perform here,” Hugh explained, “and, like the brick he is, took me as his anæsthetist. I never thought of this luck!”
“Oh, Hugh! how are they all? How is
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 mother? Oh, dear! there are such hundreds of things I want to ask you!”
“I’m just the same. How are you, dear? Your letters are jolly, but they don’t tell a quarter that we want to know. You’re looking well.” The old brotherly approval in his eyes was replaced, the girl saw, by a new expression. “Who are you with? Are you driving, or what? Can I walk with you? You mustn’t stand in this cold.”
“No, I am sure Miss Lisle should not,” Sir Algernon interpolated suavely. “Mr. Chichester, I suppose?”
Hugh bowed and apologised. Sydney introduced the two in form, with a loving pride in speaking Hugh’s name which did not escape the baronet.
“We ought to be rejoining Lady Frederica, don’t you think?” he said to her; “we were ordered not to linger.”
“I forgot,” said Sydney. “Yes, we must go. Hugh, come too. I want to show you to Lady Frederica.”
And Hugh, against his better judgment, came. It was hard to refuse Sydney anything when the sweet face looked at him so earnestly. Besides, at home they would be hungry for news; how could he help saying yes.
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He walked beside her, but confidences were impossible in the presence of Sir Algernon, although that gentleman made himself exceedingly agreeable according to his wont. Still, Hugh could look at Sydney and hear her speak, and that was something.
They reached the hotel all too soon. Lady Frederica was looking out for them and the introduction was made. She was civil, but by no means cordial, and conveyed an accent of disapproval into her polite surprise at seeing Mr. Chichester so far from town.
Sydney explained eagerly, but Lady Frederica’s “Indeed!” was discouraging, and there was a pause. Hugh felt he was expected to take his leave, and took it.
“Good-bye, Sydney, I’m—awfully glad to have seen you.”
“Good-bye! Good-bye, Hugh—my love to them at home, a great deal of love, you know, Hugh. Good-bye!”
Oh, dear! how much there was that Sydney wanted to say to him! If only Lady Frederica would have left them for a little time alone! If only Sir Algernon had not been there when they met! She wanted—oh, so much!—to hear the little things that letters never tell; those little items of everyday home news for which she
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 felt so sick with longing suddenly. Why hadn’t she asked this, that, and the other? She seemed to have said nothing but good-bye. She was very qui............