'Fasting? he said thou didn't care if he were full or fasting.

Lassie! it's not right in thee, I say; go, take him his tea at

once.' Sylvia rose, and gave up the baby, which she had been suckling, to

Nancy, who having done her washing, had come for her charge, to put

it to bed. Sylvia kissed it fondly, making a little moan of sad,

passionate tenderness as she did so. Then she took the cup of tea;

but she said, rather defiantly, to Hester,-'I'll go to him with it, because mother bids me, and it'll ease her

mind.' Then louder to her mother, she added,-'Mother, I'll take him his tea, though I couldn't help the being

out.' If the act itself was conciliatory, the spirit in which she was

going to do it was the reverse. Hester followed her slowly into the

ware-room, with intentional delay, thinking that her presence might

be an obstacle to their mutually understanding one another. Sylvia

held the cup and plate of bread and butter out to Philip, but

avoided meeting his eye, and said not a word of explanation, or

regret, or self-justification. If she had spoken, though ever so

crossly, Philip would have been relieved, and would have preferred

it to her silence. He wanted to provoke her to speech, but did not

know how to begin.

'Thou's been out again wandering on that sea-shore!' said he. She

did not answer him. 'I cannot think what's always taking thee there,

when one would ha' thought a walk up to Esdale would be far more

sheltered, both for thee and baby in such weather as this. Thou'll

be having that baby ill some of these days.' At this, she looked up at him, and her lips moved as though she were

going to say something. Oh, how he wished she would, that they might

come to a wholesome quarrel, and a making friends again, and a

tender kissing, in which he might whisper penitence for all his

hasty words, or unreasonable vexation. But she had come resolved not

to speak, for fear of showing too much passion, too much emotion.

Only as she was going away she turned and said,-'Philip, mother hasn't many more years to live; dunnot grieve her,

and set her again' me by finding fault wi' me afore her. Our being

wed were a great mistake; but before t' poor old widow woman let us

make as if we were happy.' 'Sylvie! Sylvie!' he called after her. She must have heard, but she

did not turn. He went after her, and seized her by the arm rather

roughly; she had stung him to the heart with her calm words, which

seemed to reveal a long-formed conviction.




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