Sylvia's Lovers

She lay across a chair, her arms helplessly stretched out, her face

unseen. Every now and then a thrill ran through her body: she was

talking to herself all the time with incessant low incontinence of

words.

Philip stood near her, motionless: he did not know whether she was

conscious of his presence; in fact, he knew nothing but that he and

she were sundered for ever; he could only take in that one idea, and

it numbed all other thought.

Once more her baby cried for the comfort she alone could give.

She rose to her feet, but staggered when she tried to walk; her

glazed eyes fell upon Philip as he instinctively made a step to hold

her steady. No light came into her eyes any more than if she had

looked upon a perfect stranger; not even was there the contraction

of dislike. Some other figure filled her mind, and she saw him no

more than she saw the inanimate table. That way of looking at him

withered him up more than any sign of aversion would have done.

He watched her laboriously climb the stairs, and vanish out of

sight; and sat down with a sudden feeling of extreme bodily

weakness.

The door of communication between the parlour and the shop was

opened. That was the first event of which Philip took note; but

Phoebe had come in unawares to him, with the intention of removing

the breakfast things on her return from market, and seeing them

unused, and knowing that Sylvia had sate up all night with her

mother, she had gone back to the kitchen. Philip had neither seen

nor heard her.

Now Coulson came in, amazed at Hepburn's non-appearance in the shop.

'Why! Philip, what's ado? How ill yo' look, man!' exclaimed he,

thoroughly alarmed by Philip's ghastly appearance. 'What's the

matter?' 'I!' said Philip, slowly gathering his thoughts. 'Why should there

be anything the matter?' His instinct, quicker to act than his reason, made him shrink from

his misery being noticed, much more made any subject for explanation

or sympathy.

'There may be nothing the matter wi' thee,' said Coulson, 'but

thou's the look of a corpse on thy face. I was afeared something was

wrong, for it's half-past nine, and thee so punctual!' He almost guarded Philip into the shop, and kept furtively watching

him, and perplexing himself with Philip's odd, strange ways.

Hester, too, observed the heavy broken-down expression on Philip's

ashen face, and her heart ached for him; but after that first

glance, which told her so much, she avoided all appearance of

noticing or watching. Only a shadow brooded over her sweet, calm

face, and once or twice she sighed to herself.

It was market-day, and people came in and out, bringing their store

of gossip from the country, or the town--from the farm or the

quay-side.