found it hard to take her eyes away from this girl's face; not that she
admired her exactly; pretty she was--yes; but weak, with those parted
lips and soft chin, and almost wistful look, as if her deep-blue
half-eager eyes were in spite of her. But she was young--so young! That
was why not to watch her seemed impossible. "Sylvia Doone?" Indeed! Yes.
A soft name, a pretty name--and very like her! Every time her eyes could
travel away from her duty to Squire Trusham, and to Gordy (on both of
whom she was clearly making an impression), she gazed at this girl,
sitting there by the boy, and whenever those two young things smiled and
spoke together she felt her heart contract and hurt her. Was THIS why
that something had gone out of his eyes? Ah, she was foolish! If every
girl or woman the boy knew was to cause such a feeling in her, what
would life be like? And her will hardened against her fears. She was
looking brilliant herself; and she saw that the girl in her turn
could not help gazing at her eagerly, wistfully, a little
bewildered--hatefully young. And the boy? Slowly, surely, as a magnet
draws, Anna could feel that she was drawing him, could see him stealing
chances to look at her. Once she surprised him full. What troubled eyes!
It was not the old adoring face; yet she knew from its expression that
she could make him want her--make him jealous--easily fire him with her
kisses, if she would.

And the dinner wore to an end. Then came the moment when the girl
and she must meet under the eyes of the mother, and that sharp,
quaint-looking old governess. It would be a hard moment, that! And it
came--a hard moment and a long one, for Gordy sat full span over his
wine. But Anna had not served her time beneath the gaze of upper Oxford
for nothing; she managed to be charming, full of interest and questions
in her still rather foreign accent. Miss Doone--soon she became
Sylvia--must show her all the treasures and antiquities. Was it too dark