mine might have been but a noonday-dream), of the double life of those two dear children.
And when I told her of Bruno's wild gambols, she laughed merrily; and when I spoke of Sylvie's sweetness and her utter unselfishness and trustful love, she drew a deep breath, like one who hears at last some precious tidings for which the heart has ached for a long while; and the happy tears chased one another down her cheeks.
"I have often longed to meet an angel," she whispered, so low that I could hardly catch the words. "I'm so glad I've seen Sylvie! My heart went out to the child the first moment that I saw her Listen!" she broke off suddenly. "That's Sylvie singing! I'm sure of it! Don't you know her voice?"
"I have heard Bruno sing, more than once," I said: "but I never heard Sylvie."
"I have only heard her once," said Lady Muriel. "It was that day when you brought us those mysterious flowers. The children had run out into the garden; and I saw Eric coming in that way, and went to the window to meet him: and Sylvie was singing, under
