Sylvia's Lovers

'Sylvia!' said her mother, 'who's yonder?' Bell was sitting up in

the attitude of one startled out of slumber into intensity of

listening; her hands on each of the chair-arms, as if just going to

rise. 'There's a fremd man i' t' house. I heerd his voice!' 'It's only--it's just Charley Kinraid; he was a-talking to me i' t'

dairy.' 'I' t' dairy, lass! and how com'd he i' t' dairy?' 'He com'd to see feyther. Feyther asked him last night,' said

Sylvia, conscious that he could overhear every word that was said,

and a little suspecting that he was no great favourite with her

mother.

'Thy feyther's out; how com'd he i' t' dairy?' persevered Bell.

'He com'd past this window, and saw yo' asleep, and didn't like for

t' waken yo'; so he com'd on to t' shippen, and when I carried t'

milk in---' But now Kinraid came in, feeling the awkwardness of his situation a

little, yet with an expression so pleasant and manly in his open

face, and in his exculpatory manner, that Sylvia lost his first

words in a strange kind of pride of possession in him, about which

she did not reason nor care to define the grounds. But her mother

rose from her chair somewhat formally, as if she did not intend to

sit down again while he stayed, yet was too weak to be kept in that

standing attitude long.

'I'm afeared, sir, Sylvie hasn't told yo' that my master's out, and

not like to be in till late. He'll be main and sorry to have missed

yo'.' There was nothing for it after this but to go. His only comfort was

that on Sylvia's rosy face he could read unmistakable signs of

regret and dismay. His sailor's life, in bringing him suddenly face

to face with unexpected events, had given him something of that

self-possession which we consider the attribute of a gentleman; and

with an apparent calmness which almost disappointed Sylvia, who

construed it into a symptom of indifference as to whether he went or

stayed, he bade her mother good-night, and only said, in holding her

hand a minute longer than was absolutely necessary,-'I'm coming back ere I sail; and then, may-be, you'll answer yon

question.' He spoke low, and her mother was rearranging herself in her chair,

else Sylvia would have had to repeat the previous words. As it was,

with soft thrilling ideas ringing through her, she could get her

wheel, and sit down to her spinning by the fire; waiting for her

mother to speak first, Sylvia dreamt her dreams.

Bell Robson was partly aware of the state of things, as far as it

lay on the surface. She was not aware how deep down certain feelings

had penetrated into the girl's heart who sat on the other side of

the fire, with a little sad air diffused over her face and figure.

Bell looked upon Sylvia as still a child, to be warned off forbidden

things by threats of danger. But the forbidden thing was already

tasted, and possible danger in its full acquisition only served to

make it more precious-sweet.