,x 
 
 o; 
 
 
MOODS. 
 
MOODS. 
 
 BY 
 
 LOUISA M. ALCOTT, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 "WORK, A STORY OF EXPERIENCE," "LITTLE WOMEN," "AN OLD-FASHIONED 
 GIRL," "LITTLE MEN," "EIGHT COUSINS, "ROSE IN BLOOM," "UNDER 
 
 THE LILACS," "HOSPITAL SKETCHES," "SILVER PITCHERS," 
 
 "AUNT jo s SCRAP-BAG." 
 
 BOSTON: 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS. 
 
 1882. 
 
Copyright, 1S81, 
 BY LOUISA M. ALCOTT. 
 
 Add l 
 
 GIFT 
 
 UNIVERSITY PRESS: 
 JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE. 
 
H 
 
 PEEFACE. 
 
 WHEN "Moods" was first published, an interval 
 of some years having then elapsed since it was 
 written, it was so altered, to suit the taste and con 
 venience of the publisher, that the original purpose 
 of the story was lost sight of, and marriage appeared 
 to be the theme instead of an attempt to show the 
 mistakes of a moody nature, guided by impulse, not 
 principle. Of the former subject a girl of eighteen 
 could know but little, of the latter most girls know 
 a good deal ; and they alone among my readers have 
 divined the real purpose of the book in spite of its 
 many faults, and have thanked me for it. 
 
 As the observation and experience of the woman 
 have confirmed much that the instinct and imagi 
 nation of the girl felt and tried to describe, I wish 
 to give my first novel, with all its imperfections 
 on its head, a place among its more successful sis 
 ters ; for into it went the love, labor, and enthusiasm 
 that no later book can possess. 
 
 M880755 
 
vi PREFACE. 
 
 Several chapters have been omitted, several of 
 the original ones restored; and those that remain 
 have been pruned of as much fine writing as could 
 be done without destroying the youthful spirit of 
 the little romance. At eighteen death seemed the 
 only solution for Sylvia s perplexities; but thirty 
 years later, having learned the possibility of finding 
 happiness after disappointment, and making love 
 and duty go hand in hand, my heroine meets a 
 wiser if less romantic fate than in the former 
 edition. 
 
 Hoping that the young people will accept the 
 amendment, and the elders will sympathize with 
 the maternal instinct which makes unfortunate chil 
 dren the dearest, I reintroduce my first-born to the 
 public which has so kindly welcomed my later off 
 spring. 
 
 L. M. ALCOTT. 
 
 CONCORD, January, 1882. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. SYLVIA 9 
 
 II. MOOR 31 
 
 III. DULL, BUT NECESSARY 43 
 
 IV. WARWICK 50 
 
 V. AFLOAT 69 
 
 VI. THROUGH FLOOD AND FIELD AND FIRE . . 92 
 
 VII. A GOLDEN WEDDING 118 
 
 VIII. SERMONS 140 
 
 IX. WHY SYLVIA WAS HAPPY 156 
 
 X. No 171 
 
 XI. YES 182 
 
 XII. WOOING 193 
 
 XIII. WEDDING 203 
 
 XIV. SYLVIA S HONEYMOON 211 
 
 XV. A FIRESIDE FETE . 228 
 
vin CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTEB PAGE 
 
 XVI. EARLY AND LATE 246 
 
 XVII. IN THE TWILIGHT 260 
 
 XVIH. ASLEEP AND AWAKE 279 
 
 XIX. WHAT NEXT ? 296 
 
 XX. A YEAR 320 
 
 XXI. ADAM KEEPS HIS PROMISE 335 
 
 XXII. AT LAST 352 
 
MOODS. 
 
 CHAPTEK I. 
 
 SYLVIA. 
 
 Sylvia, it is nine o clock ! Little slug-a- 
 bed, don t you mean to get up to-day ? " said 
 Miss Yule, bustling into her sister s room with the 
 wide-awake appearance of one to whom sleep was a 
 necessary evil, to be endured and gotten over as soon 
 as possible. 
 
 " No ; why should I ? " And Sylvia turned her face 
 away from the flood of light that poured into the 
 room as Prue put aside the curtains and flung up the 
 window. 
 
 " Why should you ? What a question, unless you 
 are ill ; I was afraid you would suffer for that long 
 row yesterday, and my predictions seldom fail." 
 
 " I am not suffering from any cause whatever, and 
 your prediction does fail this time. I am only tired 
 of everybody and everything, and see nothing worth 
 getting up for; so I shall just stay here till I do. 
 Please put the curtain down and leave me in peace." 
 
 Prue had dropped her voice to the foreboding tone 
 so irritating to nervous persons whether sick or well, 
 
10 MOODS. 
 
 and Sylvia laid her arm across her eyes with an im 
 patient gesture as she spoke sharply. 
 
 "Nothing worth getting up for," cried Prue, like 
 an aggravating echo. " Why, child, there are a hun 
 dred pleasant things to do if you would only think 
 so. Now don t be dismal and mope away this lovely 
 day. Get up and try my plan ; have a good breakfast, 
 read the papers, and then work in your garden before 
 it grows too warm ; that is wholesome exercise, and 
 you Ve neglected it sadly of late." 
 
 " I don t wish any breakfast ; I hate newspapers, 
 they are so full of lies ; I m tired of the garden, for 
 nothing goes right this year; and I detest taking 
 exercise merely because it s wholesome. No, I ll 
 not get up for that." 
 
 " Then stay in the house and draw, read, or prac 
 tise. Sit with Max in the studio ; give Miss Hem 
 ming directions about your summer things, or go into 
 town about your bonnet. There is a matinee, try 
 that ; or make calls, for you owe fifty at least. Now 
 I m sure there s employment enough and amuse 
 ment enough for any reasonable person." 
 
 Prue looked triumphant, but Sylvia was not a 
 " reasonable person," and went on in her former de- 
 spondingly petulant strain. 
 
 "I m tired of drawing; my head is a jumble of 
 other people s ideas already, and Herr Pedalsturm 
 has put the piano out of tune. Max always makes 
 a model of me if I go to him, and I don t like to see 
 my eyes, arms, or hair in all his pictures. Miss 
 
SYLVIA. 11 
 
 Hemming s gossip is worse than fussing over new 
 things that I don t need. Bonnets are my torment, 
 and matinees are wearisome, for people whisper and 
 flirt till the music is spoiled. Making calls is the 
 worst of all ; for what pleasure or profit is there in 
 running from place to place to tell the same polite 
 fibs over and over again, and listen to scandal that 
 makes you pity or despise your neighbors ? I shall 
 not get up for any of these things." 
 
 Prue leaned on the bedpost meditating with an 
 anxious face till a forlorn hope appeared which caused 
 her to exclaim, 
 
 " Max and I are going to see Geoffrey Moor this 
 morning, just home from Switzerland, where his poor 
 sister died, you know. You really ought to come 
 with us and welcome him, for though you can hardly 
 remember him, he s been so long away, still, as one 
 of the family, it is a proper compliment on your part. 
 The drive will do you good, Geoffrey will be glad to 
 see you, it is a lovely old place, and as it is years 
 since you saw the inside of the house you cannot 
 complain that you are tired of that yet." 
 
 " Yes, I can, for it will never seem as it has done, 
 and I can no longer go where I please now that a 
 master s presence spoils its freedom and solitude for 
 me. I don t know him, and don t care to, though his 
 name is so familiar. New people always disappoint 
 me, especially if I ve heard them praised ever since I 
 was born. I shall not get up for any Geoffrey Moor, 
 so that bait fails." 
 
12 MOODS. 
 
 Sylvia smiled involuntarily at her sister s defeat, 
 but Prue fell back upon her last resource in times 
 like this. With a determined gesture she plunged 
 her hand into an abysmal pocket, and from a miscel 
 laneous collection of treasures selected a tiny vial, 
 presenting it to Sylvia with a half-pleading, half- 
 authoritative look and tone. 
 
 " I 11 leave you in peace if you 11 only take a dose 
 of chamomilla. It is so soothing, that instead of tir 
 ing yourself with all manner of fancies, you 11 drop 
 into a quiet sleep, and by noon be ready to get up 
 like a civilized being. Do take it, dear; just four 
 sugarplums, and I m satisfied." 
 
 Sylvia received the bottle with a docile expression ; 
 but the next minute it flew out of the window, to be 
 shivered on the walk below, while she said, laughing 
 like a wilful creature as she was, 
 
 " I have taken it in the only way I ever shall, and 
 the sparrows can try its soothing effects with me ; so 
 be satisfied." 
 
 " Very well. I shall send for Dr. Baum, for I m 
 convinced that you are going to be ill. I shall say 
 no more, but act as I think proper, because it s like 
 talking to the wind to reason with you in one of 
 these perverse fits." 
 
 As Prue turned away, Sylvia frowned and called 
 after her, 
 
 "Spare yourself the trouble, for Dr. Baum will 
 follow the chamomilla, if you bring him here. What 
 does he know about health, a fat German, looking 
 
SYLVIA. 13 
 
 lager-beer and talking sauer-kraut ? Bring me bona 
 fide sugarplums and I 11 take them ; but arsenic, 
 mercury, and nightshade are not to my taste." 
 
 " Would you feel insulted if I ask whether your 
 breakfast is to be sent up, or kept waiting till you 
 choose to come down ? " 
 
 Prue looked rigidly calm, but Sylvia knew that 
 she felt hurt, and with one of the sudden impulses 
 which ruled her the frown melted to a smile, as draw 
 ing her sister down she kissed her in her most loving 
 manner. 
 
 " Dear old soul, 1 11 be good by and by, but now 
 I m tired and cross, so let me keep out of every one s 
 way and drowse myself into a cheerier frame of mind. 
 I want nothing but solitude, a draught of water, and 
 a kiss." 
 
 Prue was mollified at once, and after stirring fussily 
 about for several minutes gave her sister all she 
 asked, and departed to the myriad small cares that 
 made her happiness. As the door closed, Sylvia 
 sighed a long sigh of relief, and, folding her arms 
 under her head, drifted away into the land of dreams, 
 where ennui is unknown. 
 
 All the long summer morning she lay wrapped in 
 sleeping and waking dreams, forgetful of the world 
 about her, till her brother played the Wedding March 
 upon her door on his way to lunch. The desire to 
 avenge the sudden downfall of a lovely castle in the 
 air roused Sylvia, and sent her down to skirmish with 
 Max. Before she could say a word, however, Prue 
 
14 MOODS. 
 
 began to talk in a steady stream, for the good soul 
 had a habit of jumbling news, gossip, private opinions, 
 and public affairs into a colloquial hodge-podge, that 
 was often as trying to the intellects as the risibles of 
 her hearers. 
 
 " Sylvia, we had a charming call, and Geoffrey sent 
 his love to you. I asked him over to dinner, and we 
 shall dine at six, because then my father can be with 
 us. I shall have to go to town first, for there are a 
 dozen things suffering for attention. You can t wear 
 a round hat and lawn jackets without a particle of 
 set all summer. I want some things for dinner, 
 and the carpet must be got. What a lovely one 
 Geoffrey had in the library ! Then I must see if poor 
 Mrs. Beck has had her leg comfortably off, find out 
 if Freddy Lennox is dead, and order home the mos 
 quito nettings. Now don t read all the afternoon, 
 and be ready to receive any one who may come if I 
 should get belated." 
 
 The necessity of disposing of a suspended mouthful 
 produced a lull, and Sylvia seized the moment to ask 
 in a careless way, intended to bring her brother out 
 upon his favorite topic, 
 
 " How did you find your saint, Max ? " 
 
 " The same sunshiny soul as ever, though he has 
 had enough to make him old and grave before his 
 time. He is just what we need in our neighborhood, 
 and particularly in our house, for we are a dismal set 
 at times, and he will do us all a world of good." 
 
 " What will become of me, with a pious, prosy, per- 
 
SYLVIA. 15 
 
 feet creature eternally haunting the house and exhort 
 ing me on the error of my ways ! " cried Sylvia. 
 
 " Don t disturb yourself ; he is not likely to take 
 much notice of you ; and it is not for an indolent, 
 freakish midge to scoff at a man whom she does not 
 know, and could n t appreciate if she did," was Max s 
 lofty reply. 
 
 " I rather liked the appearance of the saint, how 
 ever," said Sylvia, with an expression of naughty 
 malice, as she began her lunch. 
 
 "Why, where did you see him?" exclaimed her 
 brother. 
 
 " I went over there yesterday to take, a farewell run 
 in the neglected garden before he came. I knew he 
 was expected, but not that he was here ; and when I 
 saw the house open, I slipped in and peeped wher 
 ever I liked. You are right, Prue ; it is a lovely old 
 place." 
 
 "Now I know you did something dreadfully un 
 ladylike and improper. Put me out of suspense, I 
 beg of you." 
 
 Prue s distressful face and Max s surprise produced 
 an inspiring effect upon Sylvia, who continued, with 
 an air of demure satisfaction, 
 
 " I strolled about, enjoying myself, till I got into the 
 library, and there I rummaged, for it was a charming 
 place, and I was happy as only those are who love 
 books, and feel their influence in a room whose finest 
 ornaments they are." 
 
 " I hope Moor came in and found you trespassing." 
 
16 MOODS. 
 
 " "No, I went out and caught him playing. When 
 I d stayed as long as I dared, and borrowed a very 
 interesting book 
 
 " Sylvia ! did you really take one without asking ? " 
 cried Prue, looking almost as much alarmed as if she 
 had stolen the spoons. 
 
 " Yes ; why not ? I can apologize prettily, and it 
 will open the way for more. I intend to browse over 
 that library for the next six months." 
 
 " But it was such a liberty, so rude, so dear, 
 dear ; and he as fond and careful of his books as if 
 they were his children ! Well, I wash my hands of 
 it, and am prepared for anything now ! " 
 
 Max enjoyed Sylvia s pranks too much to reprove, 
 so he only laughed while one sister lamented and the 
 other placidly went on, 
 
 " When I had put the book nicely in my pocket, 
 Prue, I walked into the garden. But before I d 
 picked a single flower, I heard little Tilly laugh be 
 hind the hedge and some strange voice talking to her. 
 So I hopped upon a roller to see, and nearly tumbled 
 off again; for there was a man lying on the grass, 
 with the gardener s children rioting over him. Will 
 was picking his pockets, and Tilly eating strawberries 
 out of his hat, often thrusting one into the mouth of 
 her long neighbor, who always smiled when the little 
 hand came fumbling at his lips. You ought to have 
 seen the pretty picture, Max." 
 
 " Did he see the interesting picture on your side of 
 the wall ? " 
 
SYLVIA. 17 
 
 "No ; I was just thinking what friendly eyes he had, 
 listening to his pleasant talk with the little folks, and 
 watching how they nestled to him as if he were a 
 girl, when Tilly looked up and cried, I see Silver ! 
 So I ran away, expecting to have them all come 
 racing after. But no one appeared, and I only heard 
 a laugh instead of the stop thief that I deserved." 
 
 " If I had time, I should convince you of the im 
 propriety of such wild actions ; as I have n t, I can 
 only implore you never to do so again on Geoffrey s 
 premises," said Prue, rising as the carriage drove 
 round. 
 
 " I can safely promise that," answered Sylvia, with 
 a dismal shake of the head, as she leaned listlessly 
 from the window till her brother and sister were gone. 
 
 At the appointed time Moor entered Mr. Yule s 
 hospitably open door ; but no one came to meet him, 
 and the house was as silent as if nothing human in 
 habited it. He divined the cause of this, having met 
 Prue and Max going townward some hours before, and 
 saying to himself, " The boat is late," he disturbed no 
 one, but strolled into the drawing-rooms and looked 
 about him. Being one of those who seldom find time 
 heavy on their hands, he amused himself with observ 
 ing what changes had been made during his absence. 
 His journey round the apartments was not a long one, 
 for, coming to an open window, he paused with an 
 expression of mingled wonder and amusement. 
 
 A pile of cushions, pulled from chair and sofa, lay 
 before the long window, looking very like a newly de- 
 
 2 
 
18 MOODS. 
 
 serted nest. A warm-hued picture lifted from the 
 wall stood in a streak of sunshine ; a half-cleared leaf 
 of fruit lay on a taboret, and beside it, with a red stain 
 on its titlepage, appeared the stolen book. At sight 
 of this, Moor frowned, caught up his desecrated dar 
 ling, and put it in his pocket. But as he took another 
 glance at the various indications of what had evi 
 dently been a solitary revel very much after his own 
 heart, he relented, laid back the book, and, putting 
 aside the curtain floating in the wind, looked out into 
 the garden, attracted thither by the sound of a spade. 
 
 A girl was at work near by ; a slender creature in 
 a short linen frock, stout- boots, and a wide-brimmed 
 hat, drawn low over the forehead. Whistling softly, 
 she dug with active gestures ; and, having made the 
 necessary cavity, set a shrub, filled up the hole, trod 
 it down scientifically, and then fell back to survey 
 the success of her labors. But something was amiss, 
 something had been forgotten, for suddenly up came 
 the shrub, and, seizing a wheelbarrow that stood near 
 by, away rattled the girl round the corner out of 
 sight. Moor smiled at this impetuosity, and awaited 
 her return with interest, suspecting who it was. 
 
 Presently up the path she came, with head down 
 and steady pace, trundling a barrow full of richer 
 earth, surmounted by a watering-pot. Never stop 
 ping for breath, she fell to work again, enlarged the 
 hole, flung in the loam, poured in the water, reset 
 the shrub, and, when the last stamp and pat were 
 given, performed a little dance of triumph about it, at 
 
SYLVIA. 19 
 
 the close of which she pulled off her hat and began 
 to fan her heated face. The action caused the ob 
 server to lean and look again, thinking, as he recog 
 nized the energetic worker with a smile, " What a 
 changeful thing it is ! haunting one s premises unseen, 
 and stealing one s books unsuspected ; dreaming one 
 half the day and working hard the other half. What 
 will happen next ? " 
 
 Holding the curtain between the window and him 
 self, Moor peeped through the semi-transparent screen, 
 enjoying the little episode immensely. Sylvia fanned 
 and rested a few minutes, then went up and down 
 among the flowers, often pausing to break a dead leaf, 
 to brush away some harmful insect, or lift some strug 
 gling plant into the light ; moving among them as if 
 akin to them, and cognizant of their sweet wants. 
 If she had seemed strong-armed and sturdy as a boy 
 before, now she was tender-fingered as a woman, and 
 went humming here and there like any happy-hearted 
 bee. 
 
 " Curious child I " thought Moor, watching the sun 
 shine glitter on her uncovered head, and listening to 
 the air she left half sung. " I Ve a great desire to 
 step out and see how she will receive me. Not like 
 any other girl, I fancy." 
 
 But, before he could execute his design, the roll 
 of a carriage was heard in the avenue, and pausing 
 an instant, with head erect like a startled doe, Syl 
 via turned and vanished, dropping flowers as she ran. 
 Mr. Yule, accompanied by his son and daughter, caine 
 
20 MOODS. 
 
 hurrying in with greetings, explanations, and apolo 
 gies, and in a moment the house was full of a pleas 
 ant stir. Steps went up and down, voices echoed 
 through the rooms, savory odors burst forth from 
 below, and doors swung in the wind, as if the spell 
 was broken and the sleeping palace had wakened with 
 a word. 
 
 Prue made a hasty toilet and harassed the cook to 
 the verge of spontaneous combustion, while Max and 
 his father devoted themselves to their guest. Just as 
 dinner was announced Sylvia came in, as calm and 
 cool as if wheelbarrows were myths and short gowns 
 unknown. She welcomed the new-comer with a quiet 
 hand-shake, a shy greeting, and a look that seemed to 
 say, " Wait a little ; I take no friends on trust." 
 
 Moor watched her with unusual interest, for he 
 remembered the freakish child he left five years 
 ago better than she remembered him. She was a 
 little creature still, looking hardly fifteen though two 
 years older.. A delicate yet beautifully moulded fig 
 ure, as the fine hands showed, and the curve of the 
 shoulder under the pale violet dress that was both 
 exquisitely simple and becoming. The face was full 
 of contradictions ; youthful, maidenly, and intelligent, 
 yet touched with the melancholy of a temperament 
 too mixed to make life happy. The mouth was sweet 
 and tender, the brow touched with that indescribable 
 something which suggests genius, and there was much 
 pride in the spirited carriage of the small head with 
 its hair of wavy gold gathered into a violet snood 
 
SYLVIA. 21 
 
 whence little tendrils kept breaking loose to dance 
 about her forehead or hang upon her neck. But the 
 eyes were by turns eager, absent, or sad, with now 
 and then an upward look that showed how dark and 
 lustrous they were. A most significant but not a 
 beautiful face, because of its want of harmony, for 
 the deep eyes among their fair surroundings disturbed 
 the sight as a discord jars upon the ear; even when 
 they smiled the shadow of black lashes seemed to fill 
 them with a gloom never quite lost. The voice too, 
 which should have been a girlish treble, was full and 
 low as a matured woman s, with a silvery ring to it oc 
 casionally, as if another and a blither creature spoke. 
 
 All through dinner, though she sat as silent as a 
 well-bred child, she looked and listened with an ex 
 pression of keen intelligence that children do not 
 wear, and sometimes smiled to herself, as if she saw 
 or heard something that pleased and interested her. 
 When they rose from table she followed Prue up 
 stairs, quite forgetting the disarray in which the 
 drawing-room was left. The gentlemen took posses 
 sion before either sister returned, and Max s annoy 
 ance found vent in a philippic against oddities in 
 general and Sylvia in particular ; but his father and 
 friend sat in the cushionless chairs, and pronounced 
 the scene amusingly novel. Prue appeared in the 
 midst of the laugh, and, having discovered other de 
 linquencies above, her patience was exhausted, and 
 her regrets found no check in the presence of so old a 
 friend as Moor. 
 
22 MOODS. 
 
 " Something must be done about that child, father, 
 for she is getting entirely beyond my control. If I 
 attempt to make her study, she writes poetry instead 
 of her exercises, draws caricatures instead of sketching 
 properly, and bewilders her music-teacher by asking 
 questions about Beethoven and Mendelssohn, as if they 
 were personal friends of his. If I beg her to take 
 exercise, she rides like an Amazon all over the Island, 
 grubs in the garden as if for her living, or goes pad 
 dling about the bay till I m distracted lest the tide 
 should carry her out to sea. She is so wanting in 
 moderation she gets ill, and when I give her proper 
 medicines she flings them out of the window, and 
 threatens to send that worthy, Dr. Baum, after them. 
 Yet she must need something to set her right, for she 
 is either overflowing with unnatural spirits or melan 
 choly enough to break one s heart." 
 
 " What have you done with the little black sheep 
 of my flock, not banished her, I hope ? " said Mr. 
 Yule placidly, ignoring all complaints. 
 
 "She is in the garden, attending to some of her 
 disagreeable pets, I fancy. If you are going out there 
 to smoke, please send her in, Max ; I want her." 
 
 As Mr. Yule was evidently yearning for his after- 
 dinner nap, and Max for his cigar, Moor followed his 
 friend, and they stepped through the window into 
 the garde"h, now lovely with the fading glow of a soft 
 spring sunset. 
 
 " You must know that this peculiar little sister of 
 mine clings to some of her childish beliefs and pleas- 
 
SYLVIA. 23 
 
 ures in spite of Prue s preaching and my raillery," 
 began Max, after a refreshing whiff or two. " She is 
 overflowing with love and good-will, but being too shy 
 or too proud to offer it to her fellow-creatures, she 
 expends it upon the necessitous inhabitants of earth, 
 air, and water with the most charming philanthropy. 
 Her dependants are neither beautiful nor very inter 
 esting, nor is she sentimentally enamored of them ; 
 but the more ugly and desolate the creature, the 
 more devoted is she. Look at her now ; most young 
 ladies would have hysterics over any one of those 
 pets of hers." 
 
 Moor looked and thought the group a very pretty 
 one, though a plump toad sat at Sylvia s feet, a roly- 
 poly caterpillar was walking up her sleeve, a blind 
 bird chirped on her shoulder, bees buzzed harmlessly 
 about her head, as if they mistook her for a flower, 
 and in her hand a little field mouse was breathing 
 its short life away. Any tender-hearted girl might 
 have stood thus surrounded by helpless things that 
 pity had endeared, but few would have regarded them 
 with an expression like that which Sylvia wore. 
 Figure, posture, and employment were so childlike in 
 their innocent unconsciousness, that the contrast was 
 all the more strongly marked between them and the 
 tender thoughtfulness that made her face singularly 
 attractive with the charm of dawning womanhood. 
 Moor spoke before Max could dispose of his smoke. 
 
 "This is a great improvement upon the boudoir 
 full of lapdogs, worsted-work, and novels, Miss Syl- 
 
24 MOODS. 
 
 via. May I ask if you feel no repugnance to some 
 of your patients ; or is your charity strong enough to 
 beautify them all ? " 
 
 " I dislike many people, but few animals, because 
 however ugly I pity them, and whatever I pity I am 
 sure to love. It may be silly, but I think it does me 
 good ; and till I am wise enough to help my fellow- 
 beings, I try to do my duty to these humbler suffer 
 ers, and find them both grateful and affectionate." 
 
 There was something very winning in the girl s 
 manner as she spoke, touching the little creature in 
 her hand almost as tenderly as if it had been a child. 
 It showed the new-comer another phase of this many- 
 sided character; and while Sylvia related the histories 
 of her pets at his request, he was enjoying that finer 
 history which every ingenuous soul writes on its own 
 er s countenance for gifted eyes to read and love. As 
 she paused, the little mouse lay stark and still in her 
 gentle hand ; and though they smiled at themselves, 
 both young men felt like boys again as they helped 
 her scoop a grave among the pansies, owning the 
 beauty of compassion, though she showed it to them 
 in such a simple -shape. 
 
 Then Max delivered his message, and Sylvia went 
 away to receive Prue s lecture, with outward meek 
 ness, but such an absent mind that the words of wis 
 dom went by her like the wind. 
 
 " Now come and take our twilight stroll, while Max 
 keeps Mr. Moor in he studio and Prue prepares 
 another exhortation," said Sylvia, as her father woke ; 
 
SYLVIA. 25 
 
 and, taking his arm, they paced along the wide piazza 
 that encircled the whole house. 
 
 " Will father do me a little favor ? " 
 
 " That is all he lives for, dear." 
 
 " Then his life is a very successful one." And the 
 girl folded her other hand over that already on his 
 arm. Mr. Yule shook his head with a regretful sigh, 
 but asked benignly, 
 
 " What shall I do for my little daughter ? " 
 
 " Forbid Max to execute a plot with which he 
 threatens me. He says he will bring every gentle 
 man he knows (and that is a great many) to the house, 
 and make it so agreeable that they will keep coming ; 
 for he insists that I need amusement, and nothing 
 will be so entertaining as a lover or two. Please 
 tell him not to, for I don t want any lovers yet." 
 
 " Why not ? " asked her father, much amused at 
 her twilight confidences. 
 
 " I m afraid. Love is so cruel to some people, I 
 feel as if it would be to me, for I am always in ex 
 tremes, and continually going wrong while trying to 
 go right. Love bewilders the wisest, and it would 
 make me quite blind or mad, I know ; therefore I d 
 rather have nothing to do with it for a long, long 
 while." 
 
 "Then Max shall be forbidden to bring a single 
 specimen. I very much prefer to keep you as you 
 are. And yet you may be happier to do as others do ; 
 try it, if you like, my dear." 
 
 " But I can t do as others do ; I ve tried and failed. 
 
26 MOODS. 
 
 Last winter, when Prue made me go about, though 
 people probably thought me a stupid little thing, mop 
 ing in corners, I was enjoying myself in my own 
 way, and making discoveries that have been very use 
 ful ever since. I know I in whimsical, and hard to 
 please, and have no doubt the fault was in myself, 
 but I was disappointed in nearly every one I met, 
 though I went into what Prue calls our best society. 
 The girls seemed all made on the same pattern ; they 
 all said, did, thought, and wore about the same things, 
 and knowing one was as good as knowing a dozen. 
 Jessie Hope was the only one I cared much for, and 
 she is so pretty, she seems made to be looked at and 
 loved." 
 
 " How did you find the young gentlemen, Sylvia ? " 
 " Still worse ; for, though lively enough among 
 themselves, they never found it worth their while to 
 offer us any conversation but such as was very like 
 the champagne and ice-cream they brought us, 
 sparkling, sweet, and unsubstantial. Almost all of 
 them wore the superior air they put on before women, 
 an air that says as plainly as words, I may ask you 
 and I may not/ Now that is very exasperating to 
 those who care no more for them than so many grass 
 hoppers, and I often longed to take the conceit out of 
 them by telling some of the criticisms passed upon 
 them by the amiable young ladies who looked as if 
 waiting to say meekly, * Yes, thank you/ " 
 
 "Don t excite yourself, my dear; it is all very 
 lamentable and laughable, but we must submit till 
 
SYLVIA. 27 
 
 the world learns better. There are often excellent 
 young persons among the grasshoppers/ and if you 
 cared to look you might find a pleasant friend here 
 and there," said Mr. Yule, leaning a little toward his 
 son s view of the matter. 
 
 " No, I cannot even do that without being laughed 
 at ; for no sooner do I mention the word friendship 
 than people nod wisely and look as if they said, Oh, 
 yes, every one knows what that sort of thing amounts 
 to. I should like a friend, father ; some one beyond 
 home, because he would be newer ; a man (old or 
 young, I don t care which), because men go where 
 they like, see things with their own eyes, and have 
 more to tell if they choose. I want a person simple, 
 wise, and entertaining ; and I think I should make a 
 very grateful friend if such an one was kind enough 
 to like me." 
 
 " I think you would, and perhaps if you try to be 
 more like others you will find friends as they do, and 
 so be happy, Sylvia." 
 
 " I cannot be like others, and their friendships 
 would not satisfy me. I don t try to be odd ; I long 
 to be quiet and satisfied, but I cannot ; and when I 
 do what Prue calls wild things, it is not because I am 
 thoughtless or idle, but because I am trying to be 
 good and happy. The old ways fail, so I attempt new 
 ones, hoping they will succeed ; but they don t, and 
 I still go looking and longing for happiness, yet al 
 ways failing to find it, till sometimes I think I am a 
 born disappointment." 
 
28 MOODS. 
 
 "Perhaps love would bring the happiness, my 
 dear ? " 
 
 " I m afraid not ; but, however that may be, I shall 
 never go running about for a lover as half my mates 
 do. When the true one comes I shall know him, love 
 him at once, and cling to him forever, no matter what 
 may happen. Till then I want a friend, and I will 
 find one if I can. Don t you believe there may be 
 real and simple friendships between men and women 
 without falling into this everlasting sea of love ? " 
 
 Mr. Yule was laughing quietly under cover of the 
 darkness, but composed himself to answer gravely, 
 
 " Yes, for some of the most beautiful and famous 
 friendships have been such, and I see no reason why 
 there may not be again. Look about, Sylvia, make 
 yourself happy ; and, whether you find friend or lover, 
 remember there is always the old Papa, glad to do his 
 best for you in both capacities." 
 
 Sylvia s hand crept to her father s shoulder, and her 
 voice was full of daughterly affection, as she said, 
 
 I 11 have no lover but the old Papa for a long 
 while yet. But I will look about, and if I am fortu 
 nate enough to find and good enough to keep the per 
 son I want, I shall be very happy ; for, father, I really 
 think I need a friend." 
 
 Here Max called his sister in to sing to them, a 
 demand that would have been refused but for a prom 
 ise to Prue to behave her best as an atonement for 
 past pranks. Stepping in, she sat down and gave 
 Moor another surprise, as from her slender throat there 
 
SYLVIA. 29 
 
 came a voice whose power and pathos made a tragedy 
 of the simple ballad she was singing. 
 
 " Why did you choose that -plaintive thing, all about 
 love, despair, and death ? It quite breaks one s heart 
 to hear it," said Prue, pausing in a mental estimate of 
 her morning s shopping. 
 
 " It came into my head, and so I sung it. Now I 11 
 try another, for I am bound to please you if I can." 
 And she broke out again with an airy melody as ju 
 bilant as if a lark had mistaken moonlight for the 
 dawn and soared skyward, singing as it went. So 
 blithe and beautiful were both voice arid song, they 
 caused a sigh of pleasure, a sensation of keen delight 
 in the listener, and seemed to gift the singer with an 
 unsuspected charm. As she ended Sylvia turned 
 about, and, seeing the satisfaction of their guest in his 
 face, prevented him from expressing it in words by 
 saying, in her frank way, 
 
 "Never mind the compliments. I know my voice 
 is good, for that you may thank nature ; that it is 
 well trained, for that praise Herr Pedalsturm ; and 
 that you have heard it at all, you owe to my desire to 
 atone for certain trespasses of yesterday and to-day, 
 because I seldom sing before strangers." 
 
 " Allow me to offer my hearty thanks to Nature, 
 Pedalsturm, and Penitence, and also to hope that in 
 time I may be regarded, not as a stranger, but a 
 neighbor and a friend." 
 
 Something in the gentle emphasis of the last word 
 struck pleasantly on the girl s ear, and seemed to an- 
 
30 MOODS. 
 
 swer an unspoken longing. She looked up at him 
 with a searching glance, appeared to find some assur 
 ance given by looks/ and as a smile broke over her 
 face, she offered her hand, as if obeying a sudden im 
 pulse, and said, half to him, half to herself, 
 " I think I have found the friend already." 
 
MOOR. 31 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 MOOR. 
 
 MOOR was pacing to and fro along the avenue of 
 overarching elms that led to the old Manse. 
 The May sunshine flickered on his uncovered head, 
 a soft wind sighed among the leaves, and earth and 
 sky were full of the vernal loveliness of spring. But 
 he was very lonely, and this home-coming full of pain, 
 for he had left a grave behind him, and the old house 
 was peopled only with tender memories of parents 
 and sister, whose loss left him a solitary man. The 
 pleasant rooms were so silent, the dear pictured faces 
 so eloquent, the former duties and delights so irk 
 some with none to share them, that he was often 
 drawn to seek forgetfulness in the sympathy and so 
 ciety without which his heart was hungry and life 
 barren. 
 
 Nature always comforted him, and to her he turned, 
 sure of welcome, strength, and solace. He was en 
 joying this wordless, yet grateful communion as he 
 walked along the grass-grown path where he had 
 played as a boy, dreamed as a youth, and now trod 
 as a man, wondering who would come to share and 
 love it with him, since he was free now to live for 
 himself. 
 
32 MOODS. 
 
 For an hour he had lingered there, letting thought, 
 memory, and fancy weave themselves into a little 
 Song called " Waiting," and was about to go in and 
 put it upon paper, when, as he paused on the wide 
 door-stone for a last look down the green vista, a 
 figure appeared coming from the sunshine into the 
 shadows that made the leafy arches cool and calm as 
 a cathedral aisle. 
 
 He knew it at once, and went to meet it so gladly 
 that his face gave a welcome before he spoke. It 
 was Sylvia with a book in her hand, the end of her 
 mantle full of fresh green things, and her eyes both 
 shy and merry as she said when they met, 
 
 "Prue stopped at the Lodge to see Mrs. Dodd, and 
 I ran on to beg pardon for stealing this, as she bade 
 me ; also to ask if I could have the other volumes, 
 which I am longing to read." 
 
 " With pleasure, and anything else in my library. 
 What made you choose this?" asked Moor, turning 
 the pages of "Wilhelm Meister" with an inquiring 
 smile as they went on together. 
 
 " I heard some people talking about Mignon, and 
 I wanted to know who she was ; but when I asked for 
 the book Papa said, Tut, child, you are too young for 
 that yet. It always vexes me to be called young, 
 because I feel very old ; I was seventeen in April, 
 though no one will believe it." 
 
 Sylvia pushed back her hat as she spoke, and lifted 
 her head with a disdainful little air at the stupid 
 ity of her elders, looking very young indeed with 
 
MOOR. 33 
 
 her lap full of the pretty weeds and mosses children 
 love. 
 
 "I. was just wishing for a playfellow, for Tilly is 
 rather too young. If your mature age does not pre 
 vent your enjoying what I can offer, we may amuse 
 ourselves till Miss Prue arrives. Will you go in and 
 rummage the library, or shall we roam about and 
 enjoy the fine weather ? " asked Moor, finding his 
 guest much to his liking, she was in such harmony 
 with time and place. 
 
 " Let us go into the garden ; I used to walk there 
 very often, and like it very much, it is so old-fashioned 
 and well kept," answered Sylvia, leading the way to a 
 gate in the hawthorn hedge, beginning to redden in 
 the late May sunshine. 
 
 Just beyond lay trim beds of herbs ; in a warm 
 corner stood a row of beehives, and before them, 
 watching to see the busy people go in and out, sat a 
 little child, humming in pretty mimicry of the bees, 
 who seemed to take her for a flower, so harmlessly 
 did they buzz about her. 
 
 Hearing steps, she turned, and at sight of Sylvia 
 uttered a cry of joy, scrambled up, and came running 
 with outstretched arms, for " Silver " was her dearest 
 playmate. 
 
 The girl caught her up to kiss the red cheeks, 
 fondle the curly head, and let the chubby hands pat 
 her face and pull her ribbons. 
 
 " Tilly has missed you. Do not let her wait so 
 long again, but feel that the garden is as much yours 
 
34 MOODS. 
 
 now as ever/ said Moor, enjoying the pretty picture 
 they made together. 
 
 "I thought I should be in the way, but I did 
 long to come. I hate calls generally, and Prue was 
 charmed when I proposed to make this one. How 
 nice it looks here now ! " And Sylvia glanced about 
 her as if glad to be again in the quiet place which 
 still seemed haunted by the presence of the happy 
 family who had lived and loved there. 
 
 "This is the old herb-garden put to rights. My 
 father planted it 5 my mother kept her bees here, and 
 both used to sit upon this rustic seat, he reading 
 Evelyn, Cowley, or Tusser, while she watched her 
 boy and girl playing here and there. A very dear 
 old place to me, though so solitary now." 
 
 The voice was cheerful still, but something in the 
 look that wandered to and fro as if searching for 
 familiar forms touched Sylvia, and with the quick 
 instinct of a sympathetic nature she tried to comfort 
 him by showing interest in the spot he loved. 
 
 " Let me sit here and play with Tilly while you 
 tell me something about herbs, if you will. I Ve 
 read of herb-gardens, but never saw one before, and 
 find it quaint and pleasant." 
 
 She had evidently proposed a congenial pastime, 
 for Moor looked gratified, and while she settled Tilly 
 in her lap with a watch and chatelaine to absorb her 
 little wits and fingers, he went to and fro, gathering a 
 leaf here, a twig there, till he had a small but odorous 
 nosegay to offer her. Then he came and sat beside 
 
MOOR. 35 
 
 her, glad to tell her something of the origin, fine asso 
 ciations, and grateful properties which should give 
 these comfortable plants a place in every garden. 
 
 " Here is basil, an old-fashioned herb no longer 
 cultivated in this country," he began. "I see you 
 have read Keats s poem ; that gives it a romantic 
 interest, but it has a useful side also. Zelty tells us 
 that the smell thereof is good for the head and heart; 
 its seed cureth infirmities of the brain, taketh away 
 melancholy, and maketh one merrie and glad. Its 
 leaves yield a savory smell, and it is said the touch 
 of a fair lady causeth it to thrive. The farmers in 
 Elizabeth s time used to keep it to offer their guests, 
 as I do mine." And Moor laughingly laid the green 
 sprig in Sylvia s hand. 
 
 She liked the fancy, and stroked the leaves with 
 as sincere wish that they might thrive as any ancient 
 lady who had a firmer faith in the power of her touch. 
 Seeing her interest, Moor selected another specimen 
 and went on with his herbaceous entertainment. 
 
 " Here is fennel. The physicians in Pliny s time 
 discovered that, having wounded a fennel stalk, ser 
 pents bathed their eyes in the juice ; thus they learned 
 that this herb had a beneficial effect upon the sight. 
 This perhaps is the reason why old ladies take it to 
 church, that neither sleep nor dimness of vision may 
 prevent their criticising each other s Sunday best." 
 
 Sylvia laughed now, and asked, touching another 
 sprig, - 
 
 " Is this lavender ? " 
 
36 MOODS. 
 
 " Yes. It takes its name ( a lavendo from bath 
 ing, being much used in baths for its fragrance in old 
 times. In England I saw great fields of it, and when 
 in blossom it was very lovely. It was said that the 
 precious balm called nard was drawn from shrubs 
 which grew only in two places in Judaea, and these 
 spots were kept sacred to the kings." 
 
 " I can give you a feminine bit of information in 
 return for your wise one. The blossom gives its name 
 to a pretty color, which with a dash of pink makes 
 violet, my favorite tint, it is so delicate and ex 
 pressive." 
 
 Moor glanced at her hair for the snood he liked to 
 see her wear ; but it was gone, and Tilly s great blue 
 eyes were the only reminder of what Sylvia s should 
 have been to make her face as harmonious as it was 
 attractive. With an imperceptible shake of the head 
 he hastened to finish his list, studying his listener 
 meantime as carefully as she did the herbs which he 
 laid one by one upon her knee. 
 
 " Here are several sorts of mint, and rosemary once 
 used at weddings and funerals ; sweet marjoram and 
 sage, so full of virtues that the ancients had a saying, 
 Why need a man die while sage grows in his garden ? 
 There s rue for you, and here s some for me ; we may 
 call it herb of grace o Sundays. And this is thyme." 
 
 " I know a bank whereon the wild thyme grows," 
 hummed Sylvia, as if his lines reminded her of one 
 of her favorite songs. 
 
 Tilly looked up and began to hum also ; then, being 
 
MOOR. 37 
 
 tired of the trinkets, ran away to catch a white miller 
 that flew by. " Do the bees never sting her ? " asked 
 Sylvia, as she thanked her host and put the little 
 posy in her belt. 
 
 " No ; she has been taught not to touch them, and 
 they never hurt her. I suspect they understand one 
 another, for there is a sort of free-masonry among chil 
 dren, birds, bees, and butterflies, you know. Some 
 grown people possess it. I have a friend who can 
 charm the wildest creatures, and attract the shyest 
 people, though he is rather an imposing personage 
 himself. You have the same gift, I think, if I may 
 judge by the pets I saw about you once." 
 
 "Perhaps I have, for I can always get on with 
 dumb animals, they are so honest and simple. Peo 
 ple tire me, so I fly to the woods when books give 
 out," answered the girl, with a sigh, remembering how 
 many hours these friends had brightened when Prue 
 scolded and Max tormented her. 
 
 Thinking she was weary of the herb-garden, Moor 
 was about to propose going on, when Prue s voice was 
 heard, and they went to meet her. Leading them in, 
 their host entertained one sister in the drawing-room, 
 leaving the other to enjoy herself at her own sweet 
 will in the library. 
 
 It was a pleasant place, lofty, cool, and quiet. 
 Pines sighed before two deep windows, green draper 
 ies and a mossy carpet of the same hue softened the 
 sunshine that came in at a third window, before which 
 stood the writing-table. The ancient furniture seemed 
 
38 MOODS. 
 
 at home there, the book-lined walls invited one to sit 
 and read, and a few fine pictures refreshed the eye as 
 it wandered from Correggio s Fates, above the old- 
 fashioned fireplace, to portraits of poets, or the busts 
 of philosophers sitting up aloft, serenely presiding 
 over the wit and wisdom of ages stored on the shelves 
 below. 
 
 Sylvia enjoyed herself immensely as she roved to 
 and fro, full of girlish curiosity and more than girlish 
 interest in this studious place. She peeped into the 
 portfolios, tried the ancient chairs, pondered over the 
 faces on the walls, and scrutinized the table where 
 a little vase of early wild-flowers stood among wise 
 books in unknown tongues, and many papers sug 
 gested brainwork of some sort. Coming at last to a 
 certain cabinet where favorite authors seemed to be 
 enshrined, she possessed herself of the much-desired 
 volumes, and sat down in a great velvet chair to read 
 on. But the murmur of voices disturbed her, and she 
 fell to musing with her eyes on the weird Sisters hang 
 ing just above her. 
 
 She was wondering how it would have fared with 
 her if this quiet homelike place had been her home, 
 that sweet-faced woman her mother, the benign old 
 man her father, and she the sister to whom Geoffrey 
 had devoted so many years. Would she have been 
 better, happier than now, if she had grown up in 
 the atmosphere of domestic peace, affection, and re 
 finement that still seemed to pervade the place and 
 make its indefinable but potent charm? Her own 
 
MOOR. 39 
 
 home was not harmonious, and she felt the need of 
 cherishing as much as a motherless bird in a chilly 
 nest. She had neither the skill nor power to change 
 anything, she could only suffer and submit, wonder 
 ing as she did so why fate was not kinder. 
 
 The old place had always been wonderfully attrac 
 tive to her, and now, as she sat in the heart of it, she 
 felt a curious sort of content, and wished to stay, sure 
 that it would be long before she tired of this restful 
 and congenial spot. The soft arms of the old chair 
 embraced her as if she sat in a grandmother s capa 
 cious lap; the pines whispered a soothing lullaby, the 
 perfume of herbs recalled that pleasant half-hour in 
 the garden ; and the little picture of happy parents 
 and children rose before her again, making the silence 
 and solitude doubly pathetic. 
 
 Moor found her sitting so, and thought the musing 
 little figure far more agreeable than prim Prue in her 
 rustling plum- colored silk and best bonnet. 
 
 " Your sister has kindly gone to give my house 
 keeper some directions for my comfort. What can I 
 do for you meantime, Miss Sylvia ? " he said, with 
 such a friendly air that she felt no hesitation in freely 
 asking anything caprice suggested. 
 
 " I was wondering if there was any way of making 
 those old women spin our threads as we want them. 
 They look very stern and pitiless," she said, pointing 
 to the picture. 
 
 " If I believed in fate, I should say No ; but as I do 
 not, I think we can twist our own threads very much 
 
40 MOODS. 
 
 as we will, if we only have the patience and courage 
 to try." 
 
 " Don t you think there are some persons born to 
 be dissatisfied, defeated in all ways, and dreadfully 
 unhappy ? " 
 
 " Many people are born with troubles of mind or 
 body that try them very mucn, but they can be out 
 lived, subdued, or submitted to so sweetly that the 
 affliction is a blessing in disguise. Man is his 
 own star, you know, and a belief in God is far better 
 than any superstition about fate." 
 
 Eemembering what his own life had been, Sylvia 
 felt that he practised what he preached, and was 
 ashamed to say more about the moods that tormented 
 her and made a blind belief in fate so easy to her. 
 She was strongly tempted to speak, for confidence 
 seemed natural with Moor, and the few times they 
 had met had already made them friends. She wished 
 she was little Sylvia again, to sit upon his knee and 
 tell her perplexities as she once told her childish 
 troubles, sure of help and sympathy. But young as 
 she was in years, the girl was fast changing to the 
 woman, and learning to hide what lay nearest her 
 heart. So now she smiled and turned to another 
 picture, saying with a cheerier ring in her voice, as if 
 caught from his, 
 
 " I 11 try for the patience and the courage then, and 
 let the old sisters spin as they will. Please tell me 
 who that is ? It looks like Jove, but has no eagle nor 
 thunderbolts." 
 
MOOR. 41 
 
 Moor laughed as he pushed away the curtain that 
 she might see the fine engraving better as it hung in 
 the recess above the cabinet. 
 
 " That is a modern Jove, the writer of the book you 
 like so well, Goethe." 
 
 " What a splendid head ! I wish he lived now, I 
 would so love to see and know him. I always envied 
 Bettina and longed to be in her place. People now 
 adays are so unheroic and disappointing, even the 
 famous ones." 
 
 " I can show you a man who resembles this mag 
 nificent old fellow very much. He is not so great a 
 genius, but sufficiently many-sided to astonish and 
 perplex his friends as much as young Wolfgang did 
 his during the storm and stress period. I hope to 
 see him here before long, and I am sure you will not 
 find him unheroic, though he may be disappoint 
 ing." 
 
 " If he looks like that, and is honest and wise, I 
 don t care how odd he may be. I like original people 
 who speak their minds out and don t worry about 
 trifles/ said Sylvia, looking upon the picture with 
 great favor. 
 
 " Then he will suit you. I will say no more, but 
 leave you to find him out alone ; that always adds to 
 the interest of a new acquaintance." And Moor smiled 
 to himself at the prospect of a meeting between his 
 tempestuous friend and this precocious little girl 
 whom he had already named Ariel in his fancy. 
 
 " May I dare to ask about this picture too ? It is 
 
42 MOODS. 
 
 so beautiful I feel as if I ought to pay my respects to 
 the sweet lady of the house." 
 
 Sylvia stood up as she spoke, and made a little 
 gesture of salutation, with her eyes on the face of 
 the portrait in the place of honor above the writing- 
 table. 
 
 The color came into Moor s cheek, and he thanked 
 her with a look she long remembered ; for this mother 
 had been very dear to him and made him what he 
 was. Gladly he told her many things that made the 
 hour sweet and memorable to both listener and nar 
 rator ; for the son was eloquent, and Sylvia found 
 the woman he described her ideal of that dearest, 
 loveliest of human creatures, a good mother. Tears 
 were in both their eyes when he paused, but the girl 
 begged him to go on, and he told the pathetic little 
 story of his patient sister, making Sylvia ashamed of 
 her visionary trials, and deepening her newly awak 
 ened interest in this man to admiration and respect, 
 though he said nothing of himself. 
 
 Prue came bustling in as he ended, and there was no 
 chance for poetry or pathos where she was. Their host 
 went with them to the great gate, and they left him 
 standing bareheaded in the rosy sunset that wrapped 
 Sylvia in a soft haze as she went musing home, while 
 Moor lingered back along the path that was no longer 
 solitary, for a slender figure seemed to walk beside 
 him, with tender, innocent eyes looking into his. 
 
DULL, BUT NECESSARY. 43 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 DULL, BUT NECESSARY. 
 
 TTTHOEVEK cares only for incident and action in 
 V V a book had better skip this chapter and read 
 on ; but those who take an interest in the delineation 
 of character will find the key to Sylvia s here. 
 
 John Yule might have been a poet, painter, or phi 
 lanthropist, for Heaven had endowed him with fine 
 gifts ; he was a prosperous merchant, with no ambi 
 tion but to leave a fortune to his children and live 
 down the memory of a bitter past. On the threshold 
 of his life he stumbled and fell ; for as he paused 
 there, Providence tested and found him wanting. On 
 one side Poverty offered the aspiring youth her mea 
 gre hand ; but he was not wise enough to see the 
 virtues hidden under her hard aspect, nor brave 
 enough to learn the stern yet salutary lessons which 
 labor, necessity, and patience teach, giving to those 
 who serve and suffer the true success. On the other 
 hand Opulence allured him with her many baits, and, 
 silencing the voice of conscience, he yielded to temp 
 tation and wrecked his nobler self. 
 
 A loveless marriage was the price he paid for his 
 ambition ; not a costly one, he thought, till time 
 taught him that whosoever mars^ the integrity of his 
 
44 MOODS. 
 
 own soul by transgressing the great laws of life, even 
 by so much as a hair s breadth, entails upon himself 
 and heirs the inevitable retribution which proves 
 their worth and keeps them sacred. The tie that 
 bound and burdened the unhappy twain, worn thin 
 by constant friction, snapped at last, and in the sol 
 emn pause death made in his busy life, there rose 
 before him those two ghosts who sooner or later 
 haunt us all, saying with reproachful voices, " This 
 I might have been " and " This I am." Then he saw 
 the failure of his life. At fifty he found himself 
 poorer than when he made his momentous choice ; 
 for the years that had given him wealth, position, 
 children, had also taken from him youth, self-respect, 
 and many a gift whose worth was magnified by loss. 
 He endeavored to repair the fault so tardily acknowl 
 edged, but found it impossible to cancel it when re 
 morse, imbittered effort, and age left him powerless 
 to redeem the rich inheritance squandered in his 
 prime. 
 
 If ever man received punishment for a self-inflicted 
 wrong, it was John Yule, a punishment as subtle 
 as the sin ; for in the children growing up about him 
 every relinquished hope, neglected gift, lost aspira 
 tion, seemed to live again ; yet on each and all was 
 set the direful stamp of imperfection, which made 
 them visible illustrations of the great law broken in 
 his youth. 
 
 In Prudence, as she grew to womanhood, he saw 
 his own practical tact and talent, nothing more. She 
 
DULL, BUT NECESSARY. 45 
 
 seemed the living representative of the years spent 
 in strife for profit, power, and place ; the petty cares 
 that fret the soul, the mercenary schemes that waste 
 a life, the worldly formalities, frivolities, and fears, 
 that so belittle character. All these he saw in this 
 daughter s sha,pe; and with pathetic patience bore 
 the daily trial of an over-active, over-anxious, affec 
 tionate, but most prosaic child. 
 
 In Max he saw his ardor for the beautiful, his love 
 of the poetic, his reverence for genius, virtue, hero 
 ism. But here too the subtle blight had fallen. 
 This son, though strong in purpose, was feeble in 
 performance ; for some hidden spring of power was 
 wanting, and the shadow of that earlier defeat chilled 
 in his nature the energy which is the first attribute 
 of all success. Max loved art, and gave himself to 
 it ; but, though studying all forms of beauty, he never 
 reached its soul, and every effort tantalized him with 
 fresh glimpses of the fair ideal which he could not 
 reach. He loved the true, but high thoughts seldom 
 blossomed into noble deeds ; for when the hour came 
 the man was never ready, and disappointment was 
 his daily portion. A sad fate for the son, a far sad 
 der one for the father who had bequeathed it to him 
 from the irrecoverable past. 
 
 In Sylvia he saw, mysteriously blended, the two 
 natures that had given her life, although she was 
 born when the gulf between regretful husband and 
 sad wife was widest. As if indignant Nature re 
 belled against the outrage done her holiest ties, ad- 
 
46 MOODS. 
 
 verse temperaments gifted the child with the good 
 and ill of each. From her father she received pride, 
 intellect, and will; from her mother passion, im 
 agination, and the fateful melancholy of a woman 
 defrauded of her dearest hope. These conflicting 
 temperaments, with all their aspirations, attributes, 
 and inconsistencies, were woven into a nature fair 
 and faulty ; ambitious, yet not self-reliant ; sensitive, 
 yet not keen-sighted. These two masters ruled soul 
 and body, warring against each other, making Sylvia 
 an enigma to herself and her life a train of moods. 
 
 A wise and tender mother would have divined her 
 nameless needs, answered her vague desires, and 
 through the medium of the most omnipotent affec 
 tion given to humanity, have made her what she 
 might have been. But Sylvia had never known 
 mother-love, for her life came through death ; and 
 the only legacy bequeathed her was a ceaseless crav 
 ing for affection, and the shadow of a tragedy that 
 wrung from the pale lips, that grew cold against her 
 baby cheek, the cry, " Free at last, thank God ! " 
 
 Prudence could not fill the empty place, though 
 the good-hearted housewife did her best. Neither 
 sister understood the other, and each tormented the 
 other through her very love. Prue unconsciously 
 exasperated Sylvia, Sylvia unconsciously shocked 
 Prue, and they hitched along together, each trying to 
 do well, and each taking diametrically opposite meas 
 ures to effect her purpose. Max briefly but truly 
 described them when he said, " Sylvia trims the 
 
DULL, BUT NECESSARY. 47 
 
 house with flowers, Prudence dogs her with a dust 
 pan." 
 
 Mr. Yule was now a busy, silent man, who, having 
 said one fatal " No " to himself, made it the satisfac 
 tion of his life to say a never varying " Yes " to his 
 children. But though he left no wish of theirs un- 
 gratified, he seemed to have forfeited his power to 
 draw and hold them to himself. He was more like 
 an unobtrusive guest than a master in his house. 
 His children loved, but never clung to him, because 
 unseen, yet impassable, rose the barrier of an instinc 
 tive protest against the wrong done their dead mother, 
 unconscious on their part but terribly significant to 
 him. 
 
 Max had been years away, studying abroad ; and 
 though the brother and sister were tenderly attached, 
 sex, tastes, and pursuits kept them too far apart, and 
 Sylvia was solitary even in this social-seeming home. 
 Dissatisfied with herself, she endeavored to make her 
 life what it should be with the energy of an ardent, 
 aspiring nature ; and through all experiences, sweet or 
 bitter, all varying moods, successes, and defeats, a sin 
 cere desire for happiness the best and highest was the 
 little rushlight of her soul that never wavered or went 
 out. 
 
 She had never known friendship in its truest sense, 
 for next to love it is the most abused of words. She 
 had called many "friend," but was still ignorant of 
 that sentiment, cooler than passion, warmer than re 
 spect, more just and generous than either, which rec- 
 
48 MOODS. 
 
 ognizes a kindred spirit in another, and, claiming its 
 right, keeps it sacred by the wise reserve that is to 
 friendship what the purple bloom is to the grape, a 
 charm which once destroyed can never be restored. 
 Love she dreaded, feeling that when it came its power 
 would possess her wholly, and she had no wish to lose 
 her freedom yet. Therefore she rejoiced over a more 
 tranquil pleasure, and believed that she had found a 
 friend in the neighbor who after long absence had re 
 turned to his old place. 
 
 Nature had done much for Geoffrey Moor, but the 
 wise mother also gave him those teachers to whose 
 hard lessons she often leaves her dearest children. 
 Five years spent in the service of a sister, who through 
 the sharp discipline of pain was fitting her meek soul 
 for heaven, had given him an experience such as few 
 young men receive. This fraternal devotion proved a 
 blessing in disguise ; it preserved him from any profa 
 nation of his youth, and the companionship of the 
 helpless creature whom he loved had proved an ever 
 present stimulant to all that was best and sweetest in 
 the man. A single duty, faithfully performed, had set 
 the seal of integrity upon his character, and given him 
 grace to see at thirty the rich compensation he had 
 received for the ambitions silently sacrificed at twenty- 
 five. When his long vigil was over, he looked into 
 the world to find his place again. But the old desjres 
 were dead, the old allurements had lost their charm, 
 and while he waited for time to show him what good 
 work he should espouse, no longing was so strong as 
 
DULL, BUT NECESSARY. 49 
 
 that for a home, where he might bless and be blessed 
 in writing that immortal poem, a virtuous and happy 
 life. 
 
 Sylvia soon felt the power and beauty of this nature, 
 and, remembering how well he had ministered to a 
 physical affliction, often looked into the face whose 
 serenity was a perpetual rebuke, longing to ask him to 
 help and heal the mental ills that perplexed and bur 
 dened her. Moor soon divined the real isolation of 
 the girl, read the language of her wistful eyes, felt that 
 he could serve her, and invited confidence by the cor 
 dial alacrity with which he met her least advance. 
 
 But while he served, he learned to love her ; for Syl 
 via, humble in her own conceit, and guarded by the 
 innocence of an unspoiled youth, freely showed the 
 regard she felt, with no thought of misapprehension, 
 no fear of consequences, unconscious that such im 
 pulsive demonstration made her only more attractive, 
 that every manifestation of her frank esteem was cher 
 ished in her friend s heart of hearts, and that through 
 her he was enjoying the blossom time of life. So, 
 peacefully and pleasantly, the spring ripened into sum 
 mer, and Sylvia s interest into an enduring friendship, 
 full of satisfaction till a stronger influence came to 
 waken and disturb her. 
 
50 MOODS. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 WARWICK. 
 
 A WILD storm had raged all night, and now, 
 though the rain had ceased, the wind still blew 
 furiously and the sea thundered on the coast. It had 
 been a dull day for Sylvia, and she had wandered 
 about the house like an unquiet spirit in captivity. 
 She had sewed a little while with Prue, stood an hour 
 to Max as Clytenmestra with a dagger in her hand, 
 read till her eyes ached, played till her fingers were 
 weary, and at last fallen asleep in the sofa corner 
 when even day-dreams failed to lighten her ennui. 
 
 She was wakened by a watery gleam of sunshine, 
 and, welcoming the good omen, she sprung up, eager 
 as a caged bird for air and liberty. 
 
 " The sea will be magnificent after this gale, and I 
 must see it. Prue will say no if I ask her, so I will 
 run away, and beg pardon when I come back," thought 
 Sylvia, as she clasped her blue cloak and caught up 
 the hat she never wore when she could help it. 
 
 Off she went, through byways, over walls, under 
 dripping trees, and among tall grass bowed by the 
 rain, straight toward the sea, whose distant music 
 sounded like a voice calling her to come and share its 
 tempestuous mood. The keen wind buffeted her as 
 
WARWICK. 51 
 
 she ran, but its breath kissed fresh roses into her pale 
 cheeks, filled her lungs with new life, and seemed to 
 sweep her along like a creature born to love and live 
 in such wild hours as this. The lonely cliffs looked 
 like old friends to her, though wearing their grimmest 
 aspect, with torn seaweed clinging to them below and 
 foarn flying high up their rough fronts. The tide 
 was coming in, but a strip of sand still lay bare, and, 
 climbing down, sure-footed as a goat, Sylvia reached 
 the rock which usually rose tall and dry from the 
 waves that rolled in and out of the little bay. It 
 was wet now, and the path that led to it rapidly nar 
 rowing as the tide rose higher with each billow that 
 hurried to dash and break upon the shore. 
 
 " Ah, this is glorious ! " sighed the girl, with a long 
 breath of the sweet cold air that came winging its 
 way across the wide Atlantic to refresh her. " Now I 
 shall be happy, and can sing my heart out without 
 disturbing any one." 
 
 Wrapping her cloak about her, she leaned in the re 
 cess that made her favorite seat, and let her voice rise 
 and ring above the turmoil of the waves, as if she too 
 felt the need of pouring out the restless spirit pent up 
 in that young breast of hers. Sweet and shrill sounded 
 the mingled music, and the wind caught it up to carry 
 it with flecks of foam, sea scents, and flying leaves to 
 the cliffs above, where a solitary figure stood to watch 
 the storm. 
 
 A strange medley, for the girl set her songs to the 
 fitful music of wind and wave, finding a sort of ecstasy 
 
52 MOODS. 
 
 in the mood that now possessed her, born of the hour 
 and the place. Ariel s dirge mingled with the Lorelei s 
 song, and the moaning of the Harbor Bar died away 
 into a wail for Mary on the sands of Dee. 
 
 The narrow strip of beach was dwindling to a 
 thread, and on that thread a life depended ; but Sylvia 
 did not see it, and the treacherous tide crept on. 
 
 The first exultation over, she let her thoughts voy 
 age away as if carried by the ships whose white wings 
 shone against the dark horizon like sea-birds flying to 
 distant homes. She longed to follow with the vague 
 desire that tempts young hearts to sigh for the un 
 known, unconscious that the sweetest mysteries of 
 life lie folded up in their own bosoms. She pictured 
 in the fairest colors the new world that lay beyond 
 the dim line where sky and ocean met and melted. 
 "What friends should she find, what happiness, what 
 answer to the questions that no one could solve here ? 
 Would she ever sail away across this wide sea to reach 
 and rest in that fair country, peopled with all the beau 
 tiful, heroic shapes her hungry heart and eager fancy 
 conjured up ? She hoped so, and, dreaming of the fu 
 ture, utterly forgot the peril of the present. 
 
 An ominous sound was in the air, and each billow 
 broke higher on the rock where she lay wrapped in 
 her own thoughts ; but Sylvia never heeded, and 
 the treacherous tide crept on. 
 
 From wondering and longing for the unknown of 
 this world she passed to marvelling what the change 
 would be when she landed on the shore of that other 
 
WARWICK. 53 
 
 world, where every wave that breaks carries a human 
 soul. She longed to know, and felt a strange yearn 
 ing to find again the mother whose very name was 
 but a memory. The tender tie broken so soon still 
 seemed to thrill with a warmth death could not chill, 
 and the girl often felt irresistibly drawn to seek some 
 clearer knowledge, some nearer hold of this lost love, 
 without which life was lonely and the world never 
 could be home to her. 
 
 Tears dropped fast, and, hiding her head, she sobbed 
 like a broken-hearted child grieving for its mother. 
 She never let Prue know the want she felt, never 
 told her father how powerless his indulgent affection 
 was to feed this natural craving, nor found elsewhere 
 the fostering care she pined for. Only in hours like 
 these the longing vented itself in bitter tears, that left 
 the eyes dim, the heart heavy for days afterward. 
 
 A voice called her from the cliff above, a step 
 sounded on the rocky path behind, but Sylvia did not 
 hear them, nor see a figure hurrying through the deep 
 ening water toward her, till a great wave rolled up 
 and broke over her feet, startling her with its chill. 
 
 Then she sprung up and looked about her with a 
 sudden thrill of fear, for the green billows tumbled 
 everywhere, the path was gone, and the treacherous 
 tide was in. 
 
 A moment she stood dismayed, then flung away 
 her cloak, and was about to plunge into the sea when 
 a commanding voice called, " Stop, I am coming ! " 
 And before she could turn a strong arm caught her 
 
54 MOODS. 
 
 up, flung the cloak round her, and she felt herself 
 carried high above the hungry waves that leaped up 
 as if disappointed of their prey. 
 
 On the first dry slope of the path she was set down, 
 unmuffled by a quick hand, and found herself face 
 to face with a strange man, who said with a smile that 
 made her forget fear in shame, 
 
 " Next time you play Undine have a boat near, for 
 there may be no Kuhlborn at hand to save you." 
 
 " I never was caught before, and could easily have 
 saved myself by swimming. Nevertheless I thank 
 you, sir, though I am hardly worth a wetting." 
 
 Sylvia began petulantly, being nettled by the satiric 
 glimmer in the keen eyes fixed upon her ; but she 
 ended courteously, though her own eyes were still 
 wet with sadder tears than any from the sea. 
 
 " Shall I drop you back again ? Nothing easier, if 
 you prefer to weep your life away down there to mak 
 ing it useful and pleasant up here," said the man, still 
 smiling, but with a sudden softening of the face as he 
 read sorrow, not sentimentality, in the young counte 
 nance before him. 
 
 It touched Sylvia with its quick sympathy, and 
 simply as a child she said, lifting those lovely eyes of 
 hers full of gratitude and grief, 
 
 " I was crying for my mother, and I think if you 
 had not come I should have been glad to go to her." 
 
 " Make her glad and proud to welcome you, and 
 never think yourself ready for death till you have 
 learned to live. Shall we go up higher ? " 
 
WARWICK. 55 
 
 As he spoke the man led the way, and the girl fol 
 lowed, feeling rebuked and comforted at the same 
 time. Half-way up he paused on a little green plateau 
 that nestled in a sunny crevice of the cliff. A hardy 
 flower or two grew there, a slender birch and a young 
 pine stood side by side, and birds were chirping in 
 the branches as they brooded on their nests. It was 
 a pretty place midway between sea and sky, sheltered 
 and safe yet not solitary, for the ocean sang below, 
 the sun shone warmly above, and every air that blew 
 brought some hint of land or sea. 
 
 " Eest a moment here ; the path above is a steep 
 one and you are breathless," said the man, looking 
 down at Sylvia much as the tall cliffs looked at the 
 little pimpernel close shut in its pink curtains among 
 the stones at their feet. 
 
 " It is the wind that takes my breath away. I like 
 to climb, and can show you an easier path than that," 
 said the girl, gathering up the hair that blew about 
 her face in a golden cloud. 
 
 " I always take the shortest way, no matter how 
 rough it is. Never fear, I 11 pull you up if you will 
 trust me." 
 
 " I will, beca,use I know you now." And Sylvia 
 smiled as she looked at the vigorous frame and fine 
 face before her. 
 
 " Who am I ? " asked the stranger, amused at her 
 answer. 
 
 " Adam Warwick." 
 
 " Paght. How did you guess ? " 
 
56 MOODS. 
 
 "Mr. Moor said you were like a picture in his 
 study, and you are. I thought it was meant for Ju 
 piter, but it was Goethe." 
 
 Sylvia got no further, for Warwick laughed out so 
 heartily she could not resist joining him, as she leaned 
 against the little birch-tree, glad to get rid of her sad 
 ness and embarrassment so easily. 
 
 " He glorifies his friends like a woman, and I thank 
 him for saying a good word in behalf of such a vaga 
 bond as I. You are Max Yule s sister ? I was sure 
 of it when I saw you singing like a mermaid down 
 there. He used to tell of your pranks. I see he did 
 not exaggerate." 
 
 Sylvia was annoyed at the idea of her brother s 
 tales, and wished Moor had told her something of 
 this person, that she might know what manner of 
 man he was and treat him accordingly. She w r as not 
 afraid of him, though he looked very tall and power 
 ful, standing straight and strong against the cliff, with 
 the dark shadow of the pine upon him. A masterful 
 man, she thought, but a kindly one, and original in 
 speech and manner at least, for the first was very 
 blunt and the latter decided, yet genial at moments. 
 
 " Shall we go on ? " said the girl, anxious to escape 
 all discussion of herself. 
 
 " Yes ; it is getting late and we are wet. Now 
 then ! " And, taking her hand, Warwick literally did 
 pull her up the face of the cliff in half a dozen vigor 
 ous strides and swings, planting her on the top and 
 still holding her, for the wind blew a gale above there. 
 
WARWICK. 57 
 
 She liked it, however, and stood a moment laugh 
 ing and panting, while the blue cloak flapped and the 
 long hair fluttered in spite of her efforts to confine it 
 under her hat. Something fresh and strong seemed 
 to have taken possession of her, and a pleasant ex 
 citement made her eyes shine, her cheeks glow, her 
 lips srnile, and life look happy in spite of the trials 
 that she had just been bemoaning. 
 
 Agreeable as it was to watch that buoyant little 
 figure, and listen to its frank conversation, Warwick, 
 more mindful of her damp feet than his own dripping 
 ones, said presently, 
 
 " This is a fine sight, but we must leave it. I shall 
 come again, and hope to find you here rather than 
 down below." 
 
 " I shall not try that again, nor this either," an 
 swered Sylvia. "It is sad and dangerous in that 
 cave of mine, it is too rough and high and gusty up 
 here for me, but in Mr. Moor s little nook half-way 
 between it is safe and sunny, and there one gets the 
 best of both sea and sky, with green grass and birds 
 and flowers." 
 
 Warwick looked at her keenly as she spoke, read 
 ing in her face, her tone, her gesture, a double signifi 
 cance to her simple words. 
 
 " You are right ; keep to the happy, wholesome 
 places in life, and leave the melancholy sea, the wan 
 dering winds, and craggy peaks to those who are made 
 for them." 
 
 Sylvia glanced up as if surprised at being so well 
 
58 MOODS. 
 
 understood, but before she could speak Warwick 
 moved on, saying in a different tone, 
 
 " Will you come to the Manse and be made com 
 fortable ? I arrived unexpectedly and Geoffrey is 
 away, but I shall be glad to play host in his ab 
 sence." 
 
 " Thanks, I will run home at once. No one knows 
 where I am, and Prue will begin to worry if I don t 
 appear. Come and let my father thank you better 
 than I can." 
 
 " I will. Good-night." And with a nod and a 
 smile they parted, Warwick to tramp down the ave 
 nue without looking back, and Sylvia to hasten home, 
 feeling that if she went out seeking for adventures, 
 she certainly had been gratified. 
 
 She said nothing to Prue, and when, later in the 
 evening, Moor brought his friend to see Max and in 
 quire for the half-drowned damsel, she emerged from 
 behind the curtains looking as brilliant and serene as 
 if salt water and gales of wind agreed with her ad 
 mirably. 
 
 As Warwick was formally presented to the sisters, 
 Sylvia put her finger on her lips and with a look be 
 sought silence regarding her last prank. Warwick 
 answered with a quick glance, a courteous greeting, and 
 turned away as if they had never met before. Moor 
 smiled, but said nothing, and soon the gentlemen were 
 deep in conversation, while Prue dozed behind a fire 
 screen and Sylvia sat in the sofa corner studying the 
 faces before her. 
 
WARWICK. 59 
 
 Presently her brother caught her eye, and as art 
 was not the topic under discussion just at that mo 
 ment, he strolled over to ask the cause of her unusual 
 condescension, for she generally vanished when stran 
 gers came. 
 
 " What are you doing here all by yourself, young 
 person ? " 
 
 "I am watching your two friends, and thinking 
 what a fine study they make with the red firelight on 
 their faces." 
 
 They did make a fine study, for both were goodly 
 men, yet utterly unlike ; one being of the heroic, the 
 other of the poetic type. Warwick was a head taller 
 than his tall friend, broad-shouldered, strong-limbed, 
 and bronzed by wind and weather. A massive head, 
 covered with waves of ruddy brown hair, gray eyes 
 that seemed to pierce through all disguises, an emi 
 nent nose, and a beaxd like one of Max s stout saints. 
 Power, intellect, and courage were stamped on face 
 and figure, making him the manliest man Sylvia had 
 ever seen. He sat in an easy-chair, yet nothing could 
 have been less reposeful than his attitude, for the na 
 tive energy of the man asserted itself in spite of the 
 soothing influences of time and place ; while his con 
 versation was so vigorous that Mr. Yule looked both 
 startled and fascinated by its unusual charm. 
 
 Moor was much slighter, and betrayed in every ges 
 ture the unconscious grace and ease of the gentleman 
 born. A most attractive face, with its broad brow, 
 serene eyes, and the cordial smile about the mouth. 
 
60 MOODS. 
 
 A sweet, strong nature, one would say, which, hav 
 ing used life well, had learned the secret of content. 
 Inward tranquillity seemed his, and as he listened 
 to his friend, it was plain to see that no touch of light 
 or color in the pleasant room, no word or look or laugh, 
 was without its charm and its significance for him. 
 
 " Tell me about Mr. Warwick, Max. I have heard 
 you speak of him since you came home, but, supposing 
 he was some blowzy artist, I never cared to ask, and 
 Mr. Moor would not say much. Now I have seen him, 
 I want to know more," said Sylvia, as her brother sat 
 down beside her with an approving glance at the 
 group opposite. 
 
 " I met him in Germany when I first went over, 
 and since then we have often met in our wanderings. 
 He never writes, but goes and comes intent upon his 
 own affairs ; yet one never can forget him, and is al 
 ways glad to feel the grip of his hand again, it seems 
 to put such life and courage into one." 
 
 " So it does," said Sylvia, remembering the grasp 
 that swept her out of danger and led her up the cliff. 
 " Is he good ? " she added, woman-like, beginning with 
 the morals. 
 
 " Violently virtuous. He is a masterful soul, bent 
 on living out his aspirations and beliefs at any cost ; 
 much given to denunciation of wrong-doing every 
 where, and eager to execute justice upon all offenders 
 high or low. Yet he possesses great nobility of char 
 acter, great audacity of mind, and leads a life of the 
 sternest integrity." 
 
WARWICK. 61 
 
 "Is he rich?" 
 
 " In his own eyes, because he makes his wants so 
 few." 
 
 " Is he married ? " 
 
 " JSTo ; he has no family and not many friends, for he 
 says what he means in the bluntest English, and few 
 stand the test his sincerity applies." 
 
 " What does he do in the world ? " 
 
 " Studies it, as we do books ; dives into everything, 
 analyzes character, and builds up his own with mate 
 rials which will last. If that s not genius, it is some 
 thing better." 
 
 " Then he will do much good and be famous, won t 
 he ? " 
 
 " Great good to many, but never will be famous, 
 I fear. He is too fierce an iconoclast to suit the old 
 party, too individual a reformer to join the new ; so 
 he must bide his time, and do what he can." 
 
 " Is he learned ? " 
 
 " Very, in uncommon sorts of wisdom. He left col 
 lege after a year of it, because it could not give him 
 what he wanted, and, taking the world for his book, 
 life for his tutor, says he shall not graduate till his 
 term ends with his days." 
 
 "I like that, and I think I shall like him very 
 much." 
 
 " I hope so. He is a grand man in the rough, and 
 an excellent tonic for those who have the courage to 
 try him. He did me much good, and I admire him 
 heartily." 
 
62 MOODS. 
 
 Sylvia was silent, thinking over what she had just 
 heard, and finding much to interest her in it, because 
 to her imaginative and enthusiastic nature there was 
 something irresistibly attractive in the strong, free, 
 self-reliant man. 
 
 Max watched her for a moment, then asked with 
 lazy curiosity, 
 
 " How do you like this other friend of mine whom 
 you know better ? " 
 
 " He went away when I was such a child that since 
 he came back I have had to begin again, but so far 
 he is all you said, and I feel that I should like to 
 make him my friend too, he is so gentle, wise, and 
 patient with me." 
 
 Max laughed at the innocent frankness of his sis 
 ter s speech, and answered warningly, "Better leave 
 Platonics alone till you are forty. Though Moor is 
 years older than you, he is a young man still, and you 
 are getting to be a very captivating little woman." 
 
 Sylvia looked both scornful and indignant. 
 
 " You need have no fears. There is such a thing 
 as honest friendship between men and women, and if 
 I can find no one of my own sex to suit me, why 
 may I not look for help and happiness elsewhere, and 
 accept them in whatever shape they come ? " 
 
 " You may, my dear, and I 11 lend a hand with all 
 my heart, only you must be ready to take the conse 
 quences in whatever shape they come," said Max, 
 well pleased with the prospect his fancy conjured up, 
 stimulated by certain signs which he saw more clearly 
 than his sister did. 
 
WARWICK. 63 
 
 " I will," replied Sylvia loftily, and fate took her at 
 her word. 
 
 Here several neighbors came in, and when the little 
 stir was over the girl found Warwick on the sofa, to 
 which she had retired again as the guests were ab 
 sorbed by other members of the family. She thought 
 he would allude to their first meeting, but he sat 
 silently scrutinizing the faces before him as if quite 
 unconscious of his little neighbor. 
 
 " I must say something," thought Sylvia, when the 
 pause had lasted several minutes, and, turning toward 
 him, she asked rather timidly, 
 
 " Don t you care for conversation, Mr. Warwick ? " 
 
 " I seldom get any." 
 
 " Why, what is that going on all about us ? " 
 
 " Listen a moment and you will hear." 
 
 She obeyed, and began to laugh, for her ear received 
 a medley of sounds and subjects so oddly blended and 
 so flippantly discussed that the effect was very ludi 
 crous. On one side she heard, " Mr. Moor, it was the 
 divinest polka I ever danced ; " on the other Prue was 
 declaring, "My dear, nothing is so good for an in 
 flamed eye as a delicate alum curd ; " behind her Max 
 was tenderly explaining, " You see, Miss Jessie, it is 
 the effect of this shadow which gives the picture its 
 depth and juiciness of tone ; " and above all rose Mr. 
 Yule s decided opinion that "We must protect our 
 own interests, sir, or the country is in danger." 
 
 " Do you like pictures ? " asked Sylvia, changing 
 the subject, as her first venture proved a failure. 
 
64 MOODS. 
 
 " That sort very much," answered Warwick, with a 
 glance at the various faces he had been studying so 
 intently. 
 
 " So do I ! " cried the girl, feeling that they should 
 get on now, for she loved to study character in that 
 way, and was quick to read it. " I fancy faces are the 
 illustrations to the books which people are. Some 
 titlepages are very plain to read, some very difficult, 
 a few most attractive ; but as a general thing I don t 
 care to go farther. Do you ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I find them all interesting and instructive, 
 and am never tired of turning the pages and reading 
 between the lines. Let us see how skilful you are. 
 What do you call Max ?" asked Warwick, looking as 
 if he found the small volume just opened to him 
 rather attractive. 
 
 " He is a portfolio of good, bad, and indifferent pic 
 tures. I hope he will fall to work and finish one at 
 least ; the portrait of a happy man and a successful 
 artist." And Sylvia s eyes were full of wistful affec 
 tion as they rested on her handsome, indolent brother, 
 who never gave her an opportunity to be proud of 
 him. 
 
 "I think he will if he does not waste his time 
 studying fashion-plates," said Warwick, regarding the 
 young lady whom Max was evidently wooing, very 
 much as a lion might regard a butterfly. 
 
 " There is a heart under the ruffles, and we are all 
 fond of Jessie. Don t you think her pretty, sir ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
WARWICK. 65 
 
 "That s frank," thought the girl, adding aloud, 
 Why not ? " 
 
 "Because she has no more character in her face 
 than the white rose in her hair." 
 
 " But the rose has a very sweet odor, and no thorns 
 for those who handle it gently, as flowers should be 
 handled," said Sylvia, with a reproachful look from 
 her brother s happy face to the rather grim one beside 
 her. 
 
 " I am apt to forget that, so I get pricked, and de 
 serve it. Will Max s sister forgive Max s friend, who 
 sincerely wishes him well ? " 
 
 " W T ith all my heart, and thank you for the wish," 
 cried the girl readily, adding in a moment with wo 
 manly tact, " But I did not finish my catalogue. Do 
 you want to hear the rest and tell me if I am 
 right?" 
 
 " Yes ; who comes next ? " 
 
 " Prue is a receipt book, Mr. Moor a volume of fine 
 poems, and Papa a ledger with dead flowers and old 
 love-letters hidden away in its dull-looking leaves." 
 
 " Very good ; and what am I ? Come, you have 
 made up your mind, I think, and I shall like to see 
 how correct you are." 
 
 Sylvia hesitated an instant, but something in the 
 commanding voice and the challenge of the eye gave 
 her courage to answer with a smile and a blush, 
 
 " You remind me of Sartor Eesartus, which I 
 once heard called a fine mixture of truth, satire, 
 wisdom, and oddity." 
 
 5 
 
66 MOODS. 
 
 Warwick looked as if he had got another prick, but 
 laughed his deep laugh, exclaiming in surprise, 
 
 " Bless the child ! how came she to read that book ? " 
 
 " Oh, I found it and liked it, for, though I could 
 not understand all of it, I felt stirred and strengthened 
 by the strong words and large thoughts. Don t you 
 like it ? " asked Sylvia, taking a girlish pleasure in 
 his astonishment. 
 
 " It is one of my favorite books, and the man who 
 wrote it one of my most honored masters." 
 
 " Did you ever see him ? " asked the girl eagerly. 
 
 He had, and went on to tell her in brief, expres 
 sive phrases much that delighted and comforted her, 
 for she was a hero-worshipper and loved to find new 
 gods to look up to and love. 
 
 It was a delicious half-hour to Sylvia, for the 
 talk wandered far and wide, led by intelligent ques 
 tions, eloquent answers, and mutual enthusiasm ; 
 though almost a monologue, she felt that this was 
 conversation in the true sense of the word. Moor 
 stole up behind them and listened silently, enjoying 
 both speaker and listener, who welcomed him with a 
 look and felt the charm of his genial presence. 
 
 The end came all too soon, and Sylvia was forced 
 to leave the fine society of poets and philosophers 
 and bid her neighbors good-night. She felt as if she 
 had fallen from the clouds, and with a vague hope of 
 continuing the pleasant talk she said to Warwick, as 
 they stood together while Moor made his adieux with 
 the old-fashioned courtesy Mr. Yule liked, 
 
WARWICK. 67 
 
 " Tell me what sort of book I am ; and tell me 
 truly as I did you." 
 
 " The Story without an End. Did you ever read 
 it ? " he asked with the look of benignity that some 
 times made his face beautiful. 
 
 " Yes ; I wish I might be as lovely, innocent, and 
 true as that is. Thank you very much." And Sylvia 
 put her small hand into the large one as confidingly 
 as the child in the pretty allegory might have done, 
 feeling better for the cordial grasp that accompanied 
 his good-night. 
 
 " How do you like Adam, sir ? " asked Max of his 
 father when the family were alone. 
 
 " A fine man, but he needs polishing," answered 
 Mr. Yule, who had found his guest interesting, but 
 far too radical for his taste. 
 
 " What is your opinion, Prue ? " 
 
 " He rather affects me like a gale of wind, refresh 
 ing, but one never knows where one may be carried ; 
 and when he looks about with those searching eyes 
 of his, I am painfully conscious of every speck of lint 
 on the carpet, for nothing seems to escape him," 
 answered Prue, setting the disordered furniture to 
 rights, lest the thought of it should keep her from 
 sleeping. 
 
 " Well, Sylvia, is he odd enough to suit your 
 taste ? " 
 
 " I like him very, very much, only I feel unusually 
 young and small and silly beside him, and he makes 
 me dreadfully tired, much as I enjoy him." 
 
68 MOODS. 
 
 She looked so, as she pressed her hands against her 
 flushed cheeks, for her eyes were bright and eager, 
 her whole air unquiet yet weary, and she wore the 
 look of inward excitement which henceforth was to 
 mark her intercourse with Adam Warwick. 
 
AFLOAT. 69 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 AFLOAT. 
 
 A WEEK later Sylvia sat sewing in the sunshine 
 one lovely morning, longing to roam away as she 
 used to do, but restrained by a hope stronger than obe 
 dience to Prue s commands. She had been left much 
 to herself of late, for Max had been away with Moor 
 and Warwick, enjoying themselves in their own fash 
 ion, and the girl had only had brief glimpses of the 
 three friends. Max brought home such tantalizing 
 accounts of their sayings and doings that she felt an 
 ever increasing desire to share the good things which 
 were more to her taste than girlish trifles or the soli 
 tary revels she used to like. 
 
 " I don t see why I must sit here and hem night 
 cap strings when the world is full of pleasant places 
 and delightful people, if I could only be allowed to go 
 and find them. Prue is much too particular, and thinks 
 all men alike. I know they would like to have me 
 over there if Max would only take me. I Ve stood 
 hours for him and he forgets it. Brothers are all 
 selfish, I m afraid. I wish I were a boy, or could be 
 contented with what other girls like." 
 
 Here voices roused her from her reverie, and look 
 ing up she saw Max and his friends approaching. 
 
70 MOODS. 
 
 Her first impulse was to throw down her work and 
 run to meet them, her second to remember her dig 
 nity and sit still, awaiting them with well-bred com 
 posure, quite unconscious that the white figure among 
 the vines added a picturesque finish to the scene. 
 
 They came up warm and merry from a brisk row 
 across the bay, and Sylvia greeted them with a face 
 that gave a heartier welcome than her words, as she 
 began to gather up her work when they seated them 
 selves in the bamboo chairs scattered along the wide 
 piazza. 
 
 "You need not disturb yourself," said Max; "we 
 are only making this a way station en route, for the 
 studio. Can you tell me where my knapsack is to 
 be found ? After one of Prue s stowages, nothing 
 short of a divining rod will find it, I m afraid." 
 
 " I know where it is. Are you going away again 
 so soon, Max ? " 
 
 " Only a two or three days trip up the river with 
 these mates of mine. No, Sylvia, it can t be done." 
 
 " I did not say anything." 
 
 " Not in words, but you looked a whole volley of 
 Can t I goes ? and I answered it. No girl but you 
 would dream of such a thing ; you hate picnics, and 
 as this will be a long and rough one, don t you see 
 how absurd it would be for you to try it ? " 
 
 " I don t quite see it, Max, for this would not be an 
 ordinary picnic ; it would be like a little romance to 
 me, and I had rather have it than any present you 
 could give me. We used to have such happy times 
 
AFLOAT. 71 
 
 together before we were grown up, I don t like to be 
 so separated now. But if it is not best, I m sorry that 
 I even looked a wish." 
 
 Sylvia tried to keep both disappointment and desire 
 out of her voice as she spoke, though a most intense 
 longing had taken possession of her when she heard 
 of a projected pleasure so entirely after her own heart. 
 But there was an unconscious reproach in her last 
 words, a mute appeal in the wistful eyes that looked 
 across the glittering bay to the green hills beyond. 
 Now Max was both fond and proud of the young 
 sister, who, while he was studying art abroad, had 
 studied nature at home, till the wayward but winning 
 child had bloomed into a most attractive girl. He 
 remembered her devotion to him, his late neglect of 
 her, and longed to make atonement. With elevated 
 eyebrows and inquiring glances he turned from one 
 friend to another. 
 
 " Why not ? " asked Moor, with a smile of pleasure. 
 
 " By all means," said Warwick, with a decided nod. 
 
 Being satisfied on that point, though still very 
 doubtful of the propriety of the step, Max relented, 
 saying suddenly, 
 
 " You can go, Sylvia." 
 
 " What ! " cried his sister, starting up with a char 
 acteristic impetuosity that sent her basket tumbling 
 down the steps, and crowned her dozing cat with 
 Prue s nightcap frills. "Do you mean it, Max? 
 Would n t it spoil your pleasure, Mr. Moor ? Should 
 n t I be a trouble, Mr. Warwick ? Tell me frankly, 
 
72 MOODS. 
 
 for if I can go I shall be happier than I can ex 
 press." 
 
 The gentlemen smiled at her eagerness, but as they 
 saw the altered face she turned toward them, each 
 felt already repaid for any loss of freedom they might 
 experience hereafter, and gave unanimous consent. 
 Upon receipt of which Sylvia felt inclined to dance 
 about the three and bless them audibly, but re 
 strained herself, and beamed upon them in a state of 
 wordless gratitude pleasant to behold. Having given 
 a rash consent, Max now thought best to offer a few 
 obstacles to enhance its value and try his sister s 
 mettle. 
 
 " Don t ascend into the air like a young balloon, 
 child, but hear the conditions upon which you go, for 
 if you fail to work three miracles it is all over with 
 you. Firstly, the consent of the higher powers, for 
 father will dread all sorts of dangers, you are such a 
 freakish creature, and Prue will be scandalized because 
 trips like this are not the fashion for young ladies." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, but they are. I went with a 
 party of young people last year and camped out for 
 a week. All were brothers and sisters or cousins, and 
 we had a lovely time. Papa likes me to be happy, 
 and Prue won t mind, as you are all so much older 
 than I am, and two of you like brothers to me. Con 
 sider that point settled, and go on to the next, 
 said Sylvia, who, having ruled the house ever since 
 she was born, had no fears of success with either father 
 or sister. 
 
AFLOAT. 73 
 
 " Secondly, you must do yourself up in as compact 
 a parcel as possible, for though you little women are 
 very ornamental on land you are not very convenient 
 for transportation by water. Cambric gowns and 
 French slippers are highly appropriate and agreeable 
 at the present moment, but must be sacrificed to the 
 stern necessities of the case. You must make a dowdy 
 of yourself in some usefully short, scant, dingy cos 
 tume, which will try the nerves of all beholders, and 
 triumphantly prove that women were never meant for 
 such excursions." 
 
 "Wait five minutes and 1 11 triumphantly prove to the 
 contrary," answered Sylvia, as she ran into the house. 
 
 Her five minutes were sufficiently elastic to cover 
 fifteen, for she was ravaging her wardrobe to effect 
 her purpose and convince her brother, whose artistic 
 tastes she consulted with a skill that did her good 
 service in the end. Eapidly assuming a gray gown, 
 with a jaunty jacket of the same, she kilted the skirt 
 over one of green, the pedestrian length of which 
 displayed boots of uncompromising thickness. Over 
 her shoulder, by a broad ribbon, she slung a prettily 
 wrought pouch, and ornamented her hat pilgrim- 
 wise with a cockle shell. Then, taking her brother s 
 alpenstock, she crept down, and, standing in the door 
 way, presented a little figure all in gray and green, 
 like the earth she was going to wander over, and a 
 face that blushed and smiled and shone as she asked 
 demurely, 
 
 "Please, Max, am I picturesque and convenient 
 enough to go ? " 
 
74 MOODS. 
 
 He wheeled about and stared approvingly, forget 
 ting cause in effect till Warwick began to laugh like 
 a merry bass-viol, and Moor joined him, saying, 
 
 " Come, Max, own that you are conquered, and let 
 us turn our commonplace voyage into a pleasure pil 
 grimage, with a lively lady to keep us knights and 
 gentlemen wherever we are." 
 
 " I say no more ; only remember, Sylvia, if you get 
 burnt, drowned, or blown away, I m not responsible 
 for the damage, and shall have the satisfaction of 
 saying, There, I told you so. " 
 
 " That satisfaction may be mine when I come home 
 quite safe and well," replied Sylvia serenely. " Now 
 for the last condition." 
 
 "Warwick looked with interest from the sister to 
 the brother ; for, being a solitary man, domestic scenes 
 and relations possessed the charm of novelty to him. 
 
 " Thirdly, you are not to carry a boat-load of lug 
 gage, cloaks, pillows, silver forks, or a dozen napkins, 
 but are to fare as we fare, sleeping in hammocks, barns, 
 or on the bare ground, without shrieking at bats or 
 bewailing the want of mosquito netting ; eating when, 
 where, and what is most convenient, and facing all 
 kinds of weather, regardless of complexion, dishevel- 
 inent, and fatigue. If you can promise all this, be 
 here loaded and ready to go off at six o clock to 
 morrow morning." 
 
 After which cheerful picture of the joys to come, 
 Max marched away to his studio, taking his friends 
 with him. 
 
AFLOAT. 75 
 
 Sylvia worked the three miracles, and at half-past 
 five A. M. was discovered sitting on the piazza, with 
 her hammock rolled into a twine sausage at her feet, 
 her hat firmly tied on, her scrip packed, and her staff 
 in her hand. " Waiting till called for," she said, as 
 her brother passed her, late and yawning as usual. 
 As the clock struck six the carriage drove round, and 
 Moor and Warwick came up the avenue in nautical 
 array. Then arose a delightful clamor of voices, 
 slamming of doors, hurrying of feet, and frequent 
 peals of laughter ; for every one was in holiday spir 
 its, and the morning seemed made for pleasuring. 
 
 Mr. Yule regarded the voyagers with an aspect as 
 benign as the summer sky overhead ; Prue ran to 
 and fro pouring forth a stream of counsels, warnings, 
 and predictions; men and maids gathered on the 
 lawn or hung out of upper windows ; and even old 
 Hecate, the cat, was seen chasing imaginary rats and 
 mice in the grass till her yellow eyes glared with 
 excitement. "All in," was announced at last, and 
 as the carriage rolled away its occupants looked at 
 one another with faces of blithe satisfaction that their 
 pilgrimage was so auspiciously begun. 
 
 A mile or more up the river the large, newly 
 painted boat awaited them. The embarkation was a 
 speedy one, for the cargo was soon stowed in lockers 
 and under seats ; Sylvia forwarded to her place in the 
 bow ; Max, as commander of the craft, took the helm ; 
 Moor and Warwick, as crew, sat waiting orders ; and 
 Hugh, the coachman, stood ready to push off at the 
 
76 MOODS. 
 
 word of command. Presently it came, a strong hand 
 sent them rustling through the flags, down dropped 
 the uplifted oars, and with a farewell cheer from a 
 group upon the shore the Kelpie glided out into the 
 stream. 
 
 Sylvia, too full of genuine content to talk, sat lis 
 tening to the musical dip of well-pulled oars, watch 
 ing the green banks on either side, dabbling her hands 
 in the eddies as they rippled by, and singing to the 
 wind, as cheerful and serene as the river that gave 
 her back a smiling image of herself. What her com 
 panions talked of she neither heard nor cared to 
 know, for she was looking at the great picture-book 
 that always lies ready for the turning of the youngest 
 or the oldest hands, was receiving the welcome of 
 the playmates she best loved, and was silently yield 
 ing herself to the power which works all wonders 
 with its benignant magic. Hour after hour she 
 journeyed along that fluent road. Under bridges 
 where early fishers lifted up their lines to let them 
 through ; past gardens tilled by unskilful townsmen, 
 who harvested an hour of strength to pay the daily 
 tax the city levied on them ; past honeymoon cot 
 tages where young wives walked with young hus 
 bands in the dew, or great houses shut against the 
 morning. Lovers came floating down the stream 
 with masterless rudder and trailing oars. College 
 race-boats shot by with modern Greek choruses in 
 full blast and the frankest criticisms from their sci 
 entific crews. Fathers went rowing to and fro with 
 
AFLOAT. 77 
 
 argosies of pretty children, who gave them gay good- 
 morrows. Sometimes they met fanciful nutshells 
 manned by merry girls, w r ho made for shore at sight 
 of them with most erratic movements and novel com 
 mands included in their Art of Navigation. Now 
 and then some poet or philosopher went musing by, 
 fishing for facts or fictions where other men catch 
 pickerel or perch. 
 
 All manner of sights and sounds greeted Sylvia, 
 and she felt as if she were watching a panorama 
 painted in water-colors by an artist who had breathed 
 into his work the breath of life and given each figure 
 power to play its part. Never had human faces 
 looked so lovely to her eye, for morning beautified 
 the plainest with its ruddy kiss; never had human 
 voices sounded so musical to her ear, for daily cares 
 had not yet brought discord to the instruments tuned 
 by sleep and touched by sunshine into pleasant sound ; 
 never had the whole race seemed so near and dear to 
 her, for she was unconsciously pledging all she met 
 in that genuine Elixir Vitse which sets the coldest 
 blood aglow and makes the whole world kin ; never 
 had she felt so truly her happiest self, for, of all the 
 costlier pleasures she had known, not one had been 
 so congenial as this, as she rippled farther and farther 
 up the stream and seemed to float into a world whose 
 airs brought only health and peace. Her comrades 
 wisely left her to her thoughts, a smiling Silence for 
 their figure-head, and none among them but found 
 the day fairer and felt himself fitter to enjoy it for 
 
78 MOODS. 
 
 the innocent companionship of maidenhood and a 
 happy heart. 
 
 At noon they dropped anchor under a group of wide- 
 spreading hemlocks that stood on the river s edge, a 
 green tent for wanderers like themselves ; there they 
 ate their first meal spread among white clovers, with a 
 pair of squirrels staring at them as curiously as human 
 spectators ever watched royalty at dinner, while sev 
 eral meek cows courteously left their guests the shade 
 and went away to dine at a side-table spread in the 
 sun. They spent an hour or two talking or drowsing 
 luxuriously on the grass ; then the springing up of a 
 fresh breeze roused them all, and weighing anchor 
 they set sail for another port. 
 
 Now Sylvia saw new pictures, for, leaving all traces 
 of the city behind them, they went swiftly country- 
 ward. Sometimes by hayfields, each an idyl in itself, 
 with white-sleeved mowers all arow ; the pleasant 
 sound of whetted scythes ; great loads rumbling up 
 lanes, with brown-faced children shouting atop ; rosy 
 girls raising fragrant windrows or bringing water for 
 thirsty sweethearts leaning on their rakes. Often 
 they saw ancient farm-houses with mossy roofs, and 
 long well-sweeps suggestive of fresh draughts and the 
 drip of brimming pitchers ; orchards and cornfields 
 rustling on either hand, and grandmotherly caps at 
 the narrow windows, or stout matrons tending babies 
 in the doorway as they watched smaller selves play 
 ing keep house under the "laylocks" by the wall. 
 Villages, like white flocks, slept on the hillsides ; 
 
AFLOAT. 79 
 
 martinbox schoolhouses appeared here and there, astir 
 with busy voices, alive with wistful eyes ; and more 
 than once they came upon little mermen bathing, who 
 dived with sudden splashes, like a squad of turtles 
 tumbling off a sunny rock. 
 
 Then they went floating under vernal arches, where 
 a murmurous rustle seemed to whisper, " Stay ! " along 
 shadowless sweeps, where the blue turned to gold and 
 dazzled with its unsteady shimmer; passed islands 
 so full of birds they seemed green cages floating in 
 the sun, or doubled capes that opened long vistas of 
 light and shade, through which they sailed into the 
 pleasant land where summer reigned supreme. To 
 Sylvia it seemed as if the inhabitants of these soli 
 tudes had flocked down to the shore to greet her as 
 she came. Fleets of lilies unfurled their sails on 
 either hand, and early cardinal flowers waved their 
 scarlet flags among the green. The pontederia lifted 
 its blue spears from arrowy leaves ; wild roses smiled 
 at her with blooming faces ; meadow lilies rang their 
 flame-colored bells ; and clematis and ivy hung gar 
 lands everywhere, as if hers were a floral progress, 
 and each came to do her honor. 
 
 Her neighbors kept up a flow of conversation as 
 steady as the river s, and Sylvia listened now. Insen 
 sibly the changeful scenes before them recalled others, 
 and in the friendly atmosphere that surrounded them 
 these reminiscences found free expression. Each of 
 the three had been fortunate in seeing much of foreign 
 life; each had seen a different phase of it, and all 
 
80 MOODS. 
 
 were young enough to be still enthusiastic, accom 
 plished enough to serve up their recollections with 
 taste and skill, and give Sylvia glimpses of the world 
 through spectacles sufficiently rose-colored to lend it 
 the warmth which even Truth allows to her sister 
 Eomance. 
 
 The wind served them till sunset ; then the sail 
 was lowered, and the rowers took to their oars. Syl 
 via demanded her turn, and wrestled with one big oar 
 while Warwick sat behind and did the work. Having 
 blistered her hands and given herself as fine a color 
 as any on her brother s palette, she professed herself 
 satisfied, and went back to her seat to watch the 
 evening red transfigure earth and sky, making the 
 river and its banks a more royal pageant than splen 
 dor-loving Elizabeth ever saw along the Thames. 
 
 Anxious to reach a certain point, they rowed on 
 into the twilight, growing stiller and stiller as the 
 deepening hush seemed to hint that Nature was at 
 her prayers. Slowly the Kelpie floated along the 
 shadowy way, and as the shores grew dim, the river 
 dark with leaning hemlocks or an overhanging cliff, 
 Sylvia felt as if she were making the last voyage 
 across that fathomless stream where a pale boatman 
 plies and many go lamenting. 
 
 The long silence was broken first by Moor s voice, 
 saying, 
 
 " Adam, sing." 
 
 If the influences of the hour had calmed Max, 
 touched Sylvia, and made Moor long for music, they 
 
AFLOAT. 81 
 
 had also softened Warwick. Leaning on his oar, he 
 lent the music of a mellow voice to the words of a 
 German Volkslied, and launched a fleet of echoes 
 such as any tuneful vintager might have sent floating 
 down the Ehine. Sylvia was no weeper, but, as she 
 listened, all the day s happiness which had been pent 
 up in her heart found vent in sudden tears, that 
 streamed down noiseless and refreshing as a warm 
 south rain. Why they carne she could not tell, for 
 neither song nor singer possessed the power to win 
 so rare a tribute, and at another time she would have 
 restrained all visible expression of this indefinable, 
 yet sweet emotion. Max and Moor had joined in 
 the burden of the song, and when that was done, 
 took up another; but Sylvia only sat, and let her 
 tears flow while they would, singing at heart, though 
 her eyes were full and her cheeks wet faster than the 
 wind could kiss them dry. 
 
 After frequent peerings and tackings here and there, 
 Max at last discovered the haven he desired, and 
 with much rattling of oars, clanking of chains, and 
 splashing of impetuous boots, a landing was effected, 
 and Sylvia found herself standing on a green bank 
 with her hammock in her arms and much wonderment 
 in her mind whether the nocturnal experiences in 
 store for her would prove as agreeable as the daylight 
 ones had been. Max and Moor unloaded the boat 
 and prospected for an eligible sleeping-place. War 
 wick, being an old campaigner, set about building a 
 fire, and the girl began her sylvan housekeeping. The 
 
82 MOODS. 
 
 scene rapidly brightened into light and color as the 
 blaze sprang up, showing the little kettle slung gypsy- 
 wise on forked sticks, and the supper prettily set forth 
 in a leafy table-service on a smooth, flat stone. Soon 
 four pairs of wet feet surrounded the fire ; an agreeable 
 oblivion of meum and tuum concerning plates, knives, 
 and cups did away with etiquette ; and every one was 
 in a comfortable state of weariness, which rendered 
 the thought of bed so pleasant that they deferred their 
 enjoyment of the reality, as children keep the best 
 bite till the last. 
 
 Stories were told, comic, weird, and stirring, and 
 when it came to Sylvia s turn Max said, 
 
 " We have worked and you have played ; now while 
 we rest amuse us with some of your dramatic pictures 
 and pieces, as you do me when you are tired of pos 
 ing. Make that rock your dressing-room and come 
 out into the firelight when you are ready. She really 
 has a very pretty talent for that sort of thing, and I Ve 
 taught her to drape and pose well." 
 
 Excited by the clay s pleasure and emboldened by 
 the shadows, Sylvia needed little urging, for she was 
 very grateful and ardently desired to make herself 
 agreeable in return for the willing service of her 
 "knights and gentlemen." She vanished, taking with 
 her a red rug, a white shawl, and her blue cloak as 
 wardrobe. The friends sat talking of the great actors 
 they had known, and forgot her for the moment. A 
 sudden start from Moor, who faced the rock, made 
 the others turn to see Ophelia standing on the smooth 
 
AFLOAT. 83 
 
 plat of grass tliat lay between the fire and the sombre 
 pines that made a most effective background for the 
 white figure with its crown of ferns, wild weeds, and 
 falling hair. One hand held the folds of the shawl 
 that draped her, the other slowly drew from it the 
 flowers Sylvia had gathered that day, to offer them 
 now to imaginary spectators with vacant smiles, wan 
 dering eyes, and broken snatches of song the more 
 pathetic for their gayety. 
 
 Even Max was surprised by the grace and skill 
 with which she played her part ; the others looked in 
 silence too charmed to break the spell, and when the 
 poor girl dropped her last garland on the mimic grave 
 with plaintive music, and then went smiling and cour- 
 tesying away to her sad end, they sat a moment silent 
 with sympathy, before their applause assured the 
 young actress that her effort was successful. 
 
 Quicker than they thought possible she was there 
 again, still wrapped in the same shawl, a white scarf 
 about the head, and a pine cone in her hand to repre 
 sent a candle, for this was Lady Macbeth walking in 
 her haunted sleep. The sightless eyes were fixed, the 
 brow knit with remorseful pain, the hands wrung to 
 gether as the light fell, and the lips apa.t to vent the 
 heavy breathing of a sleeper. She spoke the words in 
 a muffled tone that gave an awful meaning to her omi 
 nous confessions, and when she vanished, beckoning 
 her accomplice away, the watchers seemed to see the 
 guilty pair going to their doom. 
 
 "That is wonderful! The child has more than 
 
84 MOODS. 
 
 talent, Max, or has been trained by a better master 
 than yourself," said Moor, looking charmed yet troub 
 led by this display of unsuspected power. 
 
 " She has it in her, and needs no master. It is a 
 perilous gift, but has its uses, for the pent-up emo 
 tions can find a safer vent in this way than in melan 
 choly dreams or daring action," answered Warwick, 
 remembering the tragic face he had caught a glimpse 
 of when he saved Sylvia from the sea. 
 
 " She is a wonderful little thing in many ways, and 
 I often puzzle my head thinking what will become of 
 her, for I am convinced she will never settle down 
 like other girls without some sort of tribulation or 
 adventure," said Max, much flattered by the com 
 mendation of his friends. 
 
 " It will be interesting to watch the unfolding of 
 this modern Mignon ; I hope I shall be here to see it," 
 answered Moor, little dreaming how hard a part he 
 was to play in the drama of Love s Labor Lost. 
 
 " Let her alone, give her plenty of liberty, and I 
 think time and experience will make a noble woman 
 of her," added Warwick, feeling a strong sympathy for 
 this ardent girl, who with all the luxury about her 
 still hungered for a food she could not find. 
 
 A blithe laugh recalled them, and Rosalind saun 
 tered from behind the rock wrapped in the cloak, with 
 a little cap improvised from a blue silk handkerchief 
 upon her tucked-up curls, and a switch in her hand, 
 saying aside as she feigned to meet Orlando, 
 
 " 1 11 speak to him like a saucy lacquey, and under 
 
AFLOAT. 85 
 
 that habit play the knave with him. I pray you, what 
 is t o clock ? " 
 
 Then with quick changes of voice and manner from 
 the half-indifferent man to the audacious maid, she 
 gave the scene between the two with a spirit and 
 grace which kept her listeners laughing till she dis 
 appeared looking over her shoulder with a face full 
 of merry malice as she led the invisible Orlando 
 away. 
 
 " Capital ! Bravo ! Encore ! " cried the audience, 
 eager for more ; and inspired by their hearty pleasure, 
 Sylvia gave them the balcony scene from Romeo and 
 Juliet, leaning over the rock with all her bright hair 
 unbound, white arms bare, and shawl and scarf dis 
 posed ab effectively as circumstances would permit 
 against the scarlet rug. 
 
 This was the best of all, and a revelation even to 
 her brother ; for the excitement of former efforts, the 
 desire to do her best, and the indescribable charm 
 the part always had for her, made her act the impas 
 sioned Juliet to the life. Place and hour aided her, 
 for the moon had risen and shone into the little glade, 
 lending to the romantic figure an enchantment no 
 stage moon ever gave it. Max also helped her, for 
 he had played the part, and, burning to distinguish 
 himself, sprang forward to make a comely Romeo, in 
 spite of the high boots, blue flannel shirt, and water 
 proof mantle. He put Jessie Hope in Sylvia s place, 
 and wooed her so ardently that she was able to act 
 with all her heart, rendering the tender speeches with 
 
86 MOODS. 
 
 looks and gestures full of an innocent abandon both 
 delightful and dangerous to the beholders. 
 
 " What a lover she will make when the time 
 comes," thought Moor, with a thrill, as she leaned 
 to Romeo full of a love and longing which made the 
 girlish face wonderfully eloquent. 
 
 " What power and passion the little creature has ! 
 and a voice to lure a man s heart out of his breast," 
 said Warwick, as Juliet cried, with her arms about 
 her lover s neck, 
 
 "Sweet, so would I : 
 
 Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. 
 Good-night ! good-night ! parting is such sweet sorrow, 
 That I shall say good-night till it be to-morrow ! " 
 
 Then, as if abashed at her forgetfulness of self, 
 Sylvia slipped behind the rock, leaving her Romeo to 
 resume his place, exclaiming complacently, 
 
 " That was not bad, I fancy. Shakespeare forgive 
 me for the liberties I took with him ! I have n t 
 acted since I played this part with Fraulein Hoffmann 
 in Munich last year. She had no more idea of the 
 part than that cow looking over the wall at us, but 
 Sylvia really did very well." 
 
 " Too well for one of her age, I am afraid. Yet it 
 was very lovely," said Moor, looking as if he still saw 
 the white arms outstretched, and heard the tender 
 words. 
 
 " Sentiment is perilous stuff ; better let her get rid 
 of her romance in mimic love scenes than in real ones, 
 or leave it fermenting in that precocious head i and 
 heart of hers." 
 
AFLOAT. 87 
 
 Yet Warwick had enjoyed it most of all, and was 
 the first to rise and thank her when she came de 
 murely back to her seat, with no sign of the actress 
 about, her but a deeper color in the usually pale 
 cheeks, and eyes that seemed to have lost their 
 shadows and grown young. 
 
 She took their praises modestly, rejoicing inwardly 
 over the new sense of power that came to her as she 
 saw not only admiration but wonder and respect in 
 the faces of those she most desired to please. Gen 
 erally she cared nothing for the regard of men, but 
 these two were different from any she had known, and 
 she felt that whatever they gave her was worth the 
 having. 
 
 They sat late, for sleep had been banished by pleas 
 ure, and they lingered talking over the immortal char 
 acters which will always be full of intense interest to 
 those who love to study human nature as painted by 
 the Master who seemed to have found the key to all 
 the passions, and set them to a music of which we 
 never tire. 
 
 A distant clock struck eleven , Max suggested bed, 
 and the proposition was unanimously accepted. 
 
 " Where are you going to hang me ? " asked Sylvia, 
 as she laid hold of her hammock and looked about 
 her with nearly as much interest as if her suspension 
 was to be of the perpendicular order. 
 
 " You are not to be swung up in a tree to-night, but 
 laid like a ghost, and requested not to walk till morn 
 ing. There is an unused barn close by, so we shall 
 
88 MOODS. 
 
 have a roof over us for one night longer," answered 
 Max, playing chamberlain while the others remained 
 to quench the fire and secure the larder. 
 
 The moon lighted Sylvia to bed, and when shown 
 her half the barn which, as she was a Marine, was 
 very properly the bay, Max explained she scouted 
 the idea of being nervous or timid in such rude quar 
 ters, made herself a cosey nest, and bade her brother a 
 merry good-night. 
 
 More weary than she would confess, Sylvia fell 
 asleep at once, despite the novelty of her situation and 
 the noises that fill a summer night with fitful rust 
 lings and tones. How long she slept she did not 
 know, but woke suddenly and sat erect with that cu 
 rious thrill which sometimes startles one out of deep 
 est slumber, and is often the forerunner of some dread 
 or danger. She felt this hot tingle through blood and 
 nerves, and stared about her, thinking of fire. But 
 everything was dark and still, and after waiting a few 
 moments she decided that her nest had been too warm, 
 for her temples throbbed and her cheeks were feverish 
 with the close air of the barn half filled with new- 
 made hay. 
 
 Creeping up a fragrant slope, she spread her cloak 
 again and lay down where a cool breath flowed 
 through wide chinks in the wall. Sleep was slowly 
 returning when the rustle of footsteps scared it quite 
 away and set her heart beating fast, for they came 
 toward the new couch she had chosen. Holding her 
 breath, she listened. The quiet tread drew nearer and 
 
AFLOAT. 89 
 
 nearer till it paused within a yard of her, then some 
 one seemed to throw himself down, sigh heavily a 
 few times, and grow still as if falling asleep. 
 
 " It is Max," thought Sylvia, and whispered his 
 name ; but no one answered, and from the far corner 
 of the barn she heard her brother muttering in his 
 sleep. Who was it, then ? Max had said there were 
 no cattle near. She was sure neither of her comrades 
 had left their bivouac, for there was her brother talk 
 ing as usual in his dreams ; some one seemed restless 
 and turned often with decided motion ; that was War 
 wick, she thought ; while the quietest sleeper of the 
 three betrayed his presence by laughing once with the 
 low-toned merriment she recognized as Moor s. These 
 discoveries left her a prey to visions of grimy strollers, 
 maudlin farm-servants, and infectious emigrants in 
 dismal array. A strong desire to cry out possessed 
 her for a moment, but was checked ; for with all her 
 sensitiveness Sylvia had much common sense, and 
 that spirit which hates to be conquered even by a 
 natural fear. She remembered her scornful repudia 
 tion of the charge of timidity, and the endless jokes 
 she would have to undergo if her mysterious neighbor 
 should prove some harmless wanderer or an imaginary 
 terror of her own, so she held her peace, thinking 
 valiantly as the drops gathered on her forehead, 
 and every sense grew painfully alert, 
 
 " I 11 not call if my hair turns gray with fright, and 
 I find myself an idiot to-morrow. I told them to try 
 me, and I won t be found wanting at the first alarm. 
 
90 MOODS. 
 
 I 11 be still, if the thing does not touch me, till dawn, 
 when I shall know how to act at once, and so save 
 myself from ridicule at the cost of a wakeful night." 
 
 Holding fast to this resolve, Sylvia lay motionless, 
 listening to the cricket s chirp without, and taking 
 uncomfortable notes of the state of things within, for 
 the new-comer stirred heavily, sighed long and deeply, 
 and seemed to wake often, like one too sad or weary 
 to rest. It would have been wiser to scream her 
 scream and have the rout over, for she tormented 
 herself with the ingenuity of* a lively fancy, and 
 suffered more from her own terrors than at the dis 
 covery of a dozen vampires. Every tale of diablerie 
 she had ever heard came most inopportunely to haunt 
 her now, and though she felt their folly, she could not 
 free herself from their dominion. She wondered till 
 she could wonder no longer what the morning would 
 show her. She tried to calculate in how many springs 
 she could reach and fly over the low partition which 
 separated her from her sleeping body-guard. She 
 wished with all her heart that she had stayed in her 
 nest which was nearer the door, and watched for dawn 
 with eyes that ached to see the light. 
 
 In the midst of these distressful sensations the far- 
 off crow of some vigilant chanticleer assured her that 
 the short summer night was wearing away and relief 
 was at hand. This comfortable conviction had so 
 good an effect that she lapsed into what seemed a 
 moment s oblivion, but was in fact an hour s restless 
 sleep, for when her eyes unclosed again the first red 
 
AFLOAT. 91 
 
 streaks were visible in the east, and a dim light found 
 its way into the barn through the great door which 
 had been left ajar for air. An instant Sylvia lay col 
 lecting herself, then rose on her arm, looked resolutely 
 behind her, stared with round eyes a moment, and 
 dropped down again, laughing with a merriment 
 which, coming on the heels of her long alarm, was 
 rather hysterical. All she saw was a little soft-eyed 
 Alderney calf, which lifted its stag-like head, and 
 regarded her with a confiding aspect that won her 
 pardon for its innocent offence. 
 
 Through the relief of both mind and body which 
 she experienced in no small degree, the first thought 
 that came was a thankful " What a mercy I did n t call 
 Max, for I should never have heard the last of this ! " 
 And, having fought her fears alone, she enjoyed her 
 success alone, and, girl-like, resolved to say nothing 
 of her first night s adventures. Gathering herself up, 
 she crept nearer, and caressed her late terror, which 
 stretched its neck toward her with a comfortable 
 sound, and munched her shawl like a cosset lamb. 
 But before this new friendship was many minutes old, 
 Sylvia s heavy lids fell together, her head dropped 
 lower and lower, her hand lay still on the dappled 
 neck, and with a long sigh of weariness she dropped 
 back upon the hay, leaving little Alderney to watch 
 over her much more tranquilly than she had watched 
 over it. 
 
92 MOODS. 
 
 CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 THROUGH FLOOD AND FIELD AND FIRE. 
 
 "Y7~EKY early were they afloat again, and as they 
 glided up the stream Sylvia watched the earth s 
 awakening, seeing in it what her own should be. 
 The sun was not yet visible above the hills, but the 
 sky was ready for his coming, with the soft flush of 
 color dawn gives only to her royal lover. Birds were 
 chanting matins as if all the jubilance of their short 
 lives must be poured out at once. Flowers stirred 
 and brightened like children after sleep. A balmy 
 wind came whispering from the wood, bringing the 
 aroma of pines, the cool breath of damp nooks, the 
 healthful kiss that leaves a glow behind. Light mists 
 floated down the river like departing visions that had 
 haunted it by night, and every ripple breaking on the 
 shore seemed to sing a musical good-morrow. 
 
 Sylvia could not conceal the weariness her long 
 vigil left behind ; and after betraying herself by a 
 drowsy lurch that nearly took her overboard, she 
 made herself comfortable, and slept till the grating of 
 the keel on a pebbly shore woke her to find a new 
 harbor reached under the lee of a cliff, whose deep 
 shadow was very grateful after the glare of noon upon 
 the water. 
 
THROUGH FLOOD AND FIELD AND FIRE. 93 
 
 "How do you intend to dispose of yourself this 
 afternoon, Adam ? " asked Max, when dinner was over 
 and his sister busy feeding the birds. 
 
 "In this way," answered Warwick, producing a 
 book and settling himself in a commodious cranny of 
 the rock. 
 
 " Moor and I want to climb the cliff and sketch the 
 view ; but it is too rough a road for Sylvia. Would 
 you mind mounting guard for an hour or two ? Read 
 away, and leave her to amuse herself; only don t 
 let her get into mischief by way of enjoying her 
 liberty, for she fears nothing and is fond of experi 
 ments." 
 
 " I 11 do my best," replied Warwick, with an air of 
 resignation. 
 
 Having slung the hammock and seen Sylvia safely 
 into it, the climbers departed, leaving her to enjoy 
 the luxury of motion. For half an hour she swung 
 idly, looking up into the green pavilion overhead, 
 where many insect families were busy with their 
 small joys and cares, or out over the still landscape 
 basking in the warmth of a cloudless afternoon. 
 Then she opened a book Max had brought for his own 
 amusement, and began to read as intently as her com 
 panion, who leaned against the bowlder slowly turning 
 his pages, with leafy shadows nickering over his un 
 covered head and touching it with alternate sun and 
 shade. The book proved interesting, and Sylvia was 
 rapidly skimming into the heart of the story, when 
 an unguarded motion caused her swing to slope peril- 
 
94 MOODS. 
 
 ously to one side, and in saving herself she lost her 
 book. This produced a predicament, for being helped 
 into a hammock and getting out alone are two very 
 different things. She eyed the distance from her 
 nest to the ground, and fancied it had been made 
 unusually great to keep her stationary. She held fast 
 with one hand and stretched downward with the other, 
 but the book insolently flirted its leaves just out of 
 reach. She took a survey of Warwick ; he had not 
 perceived her plight, and she felt an unwonted reluc 
 tance to call for help, because he did not look like 
 one used to come and go at a woman s bidding. After 
 several fruitless essays she decided to hazard an un 
 graceful descent ; and, gathering herself up, was about 
 to launch boldly out, when Warwick cried, " Stop ! " 
 in a tone that nearly produced the catastrophe he 
 wished to avert. Sylvia subsided, and coming up he 
 lifted the book, glanced at the title, then keenly at 
 the reader. 
 
 "Do you like this?" 
 
 " So far very much." 
 
 " Are you allowed to read what you choose ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir. That is Max s choice, however ; I brought 
 no book." 
 
 " I advise you to skim it into the river ; it is not a 
 book for you." 
 
 Sylvia caught a glimpse of the one he had been 
 reading himself, and, impelled by a sudden impulse 
 to see what would come of it, she answered with a 
 look as keen as his own, 
 
THROUGH FLOOD AND FIELD AND FIRE. 95 
 
 "You disapprove of my book; would you recom 
 mend yours ? " 
 
 " In this case yes ; for in one you will find much 
 falsehood in purple and fine linen, in the other some 
 truth in fig-leaves. Take your choice." 
 
 He offered both ; but Sylvia took refuge in civility. 
 
 "Thank you, I ll have neither; but if you will 
 please steady the hammock, I will try to find some 
 more harmless amusement for myself." 
 
 He obeyed with one of the humorous expressions 
 which often passed over his face. Sylvia descended 
 as gracefully as circumstances permitted, and went 
 roving up and down the cliffs. Warwick resumed 
 his seat and the " barbaric yawp," but seemed to find 
 Truth in demi-toilet less interesting than Youth in a 
 gray gown and round hat, for which his taste is to be 
 commended. The girl had small scope for amuse 
 ment, and when she had gathered moss for pillows, 
 laid out a white fungus to dry for a future pin-cush 
 ion, harvested pennyroyal in little sheaves tied with 
 grass-blades, watched a battle between black ants and 
 red, and learned the landscape by heart, she was at 
 the end of her resources, and leaning on a stone sur 
 veyed earth and sky with a somewhat despondent 
 air. 
 
 " You would like something to do, I think." 
 
 " Yes, sir ; for, being rather new to this sort of life, 
 I have not yet learned how to dispose of my time." 
 
 " I see that, and, having deprived you of one em 
 ployment, will try to replace it by another." 
 
96 MOODS. 
 
 Warwick rose, and, going to the single birch that 
 glimmered among the pines like a delicate spirit of 
 the wood, he presently returned with strips of silvery 
 bark. 
 
 " You were wishing for baskets to hold your spoils, 
 yesterday ; shall we make some now ? " he asked. 
 
 " How stupid in me not to think of that ! Yes, 
 thank you, I should like it very much." And, pro 
 ducing her house- wife, Sylvia fell to work with a 
 brightening face. 
 
 Warwick sat a little below her on the rock, shaping 
 his basket in perfect silence. This did not suit Syl 
 via ; for, feeling lively and loquacious, she wanted con 
 versation to occupy her thoughts as pleasantly as the 
 birch rolls were occupying her hands, and there sat a 
 person who could do it perfectly if he chose. She 
 reconnoitred with covert glances, made sundry over 
 tures, and sent out envoys in the shape of scissors, 
 needles, and thread. But no answering glance met 
 hers ; her remarks received the briefest replies, and 
 her offers of assistance were declined with an absent 
 " No, thank you." Then she grew indignant at this 
 seeming neglect, and thought, as she sat frowning 
 over her work, behind his back, 
 
 " He treats me like a child, very well then, I 11 
 behave like one, and beset him with questions till he 
 is driven to speak ; for he can talk, he ought to talk, 
 he shall talk." 
 
 " Mr. Warwick, do you like children ? " she began, 
 with a determined aspect. 
 
THROUGH FLOOD AND FIELD AND FIRE. 97 
 
 " Better than men or women." 
 
 " Do you enjoy amusing them ? " 
 
 " Exceedingly, when in the humor." 
 
 " Are you in the humor now ? " 
 
 " Yes, I think so." 
 
 " Then why don t you amuse me ? " 
 
 " Because you are not a child." 
 
 " I fancied you thought me one." 
 
 " If I. had, I probably should have put you on my 
 knee, and told you fairy tales, or cut dolls for you out 
 of this bark, instead of sitting respectfully silent and 
 making a basket for your stores." 
 
 There was a curious smile about Warwick s mouth 
 as he spoke, and Sylvia was rather abashed by her 
 first exploit. But there was a pleasure in the daring, 
 and choosing another topic she tried again. 
 
 " Max was telling me last night about the great 
 college you had chosen ; I thought it must be a very 
 original and interesting way to educate one s self, and 
 wanted very much to know what you had been study 
 ing lately. May I ask you now ? " 
 
 " Men and women," was the brief answer. 
 
 " Have you got your lesson, sir ? " 
 
 " Not yet." 
 
 " May I ask which part you are studying now ? " 
 
 " The latter." 
 
 " Do you find it interesting ? " 
 
 " Very." 
 
 Sylvia paused to wonder what sort of woman he 
 would care to study, and sat silent till she had com- 
 
 7 
 
98 MOODS. 
 
 pleted a canoe-shaped basket, the useful size of which 
 produced a sudden desire to fill it. Her eye had 
 already spied a knoll across the river covered with 
 vines, and so suggestive of berries that she now found 
 it impossible to resist the desire for an exploring trip 
 in that direction. The boat was too large for her to 
 manage alone, but an enterprising spirit had taken 
 possession of her, and, having made one voyage of dis 
 covery with small success, she resolved to try again, 
 hoping a second in another direction might prove 
 more fruitful. 
 
 " Is your basket done ? " she asked. 
 
 " Yes ; will you have it ? " 
 
 " Why, you have made it as an Indian would, using 
 grass instead of thread. It is much more complete 
 than mine, for the green stitches ornament the white 
 bark, but the black ones disfigure it. I should know 
 a man made your basket and a woman mine." 
 
 " Because one is ugly and strong, the other graceful 
 but unable to stand alone ? " asked Warwick, rising, 
 with a gesture that sent the silvery shreds flying away 
 on the wind. 
 
 " One holds as much as the other, however ; and I 
 fancy the woman would fill hers soonest if she had the 
 wherewithal to do it. Do you know there are berries 
 on that hillside opposite ? " 
 
 " I see vines, but consider fruit doubtful, for boys 
 and birds are thicker than blackberries." 
 
 " I ve a firm conviction that they have left some 
 for us ; and as Max says you like frankness, I think I 
 
THROUGH FLOOD AND FIELD AND FIRE. 99 
 
 shall venture to ask you to row me over and help me 
 fill the baskets on the other side." 
 
 Sylvia looked up at him with a merry mixture of 
 doubt and daring in her face, and offered him his hat. 
 
 " Very good, I will," said Warwick, leading the way 
 to the boat with an alacrity which proved how much 
 pleasanter to him was action than repose. 
 
 There was no dry landing-place just opposite, and 
 as he rowed higher, Adam fixed his eyes on Sylvia 
 with a look peculiar to himself, a gaze more keen than 
 soft, which seemed to search one through and through 
 with its rapid discernment. He was studying her, 
 and finding his book grow more and more interesting 
 every hour; for Sylvia, un vexed by home restraints 
 and happy in congenial society, was now her best and 
 sweetest self. 
 
 She could not be offended by the grave penetration 
 of this glance, though an uncomfortable consciousness 
 that she was being analyzed and tested made her 
 meet it with a look intended to be dignified, but 
 which was also somewhat defiant, and more than 
 one smile passed over Warwick s countenance as he 
 watched her. The moment the boat glided with a 
 soft swish among the rushes that fringed the shore, she 
 sprung up the bank, and, leaving a basket behind her 
 by way of hint, hurried to the sandy knoll, where, to 
 her great satisfaction, she found the vines heavy with 
 berries. As Warwick joined her she held up a shin 
 ing cluster, saying with a touch of exultation in her 
 voice, 
 
100 MOODS. 
 
 " My faith is rewarded ; taste and believe." 
 He accepted them with a nod, and said pleasantly, 
 " As my prophecy has failed, let us see if yours will 
 be fulfilled." 
 
 "I accept the challenge." And down upon her 
 knees went Sylvia among the vines, regardless of 
 stains, rents, or wounded hands. 
 
 Warwick strolled away to leave her " claim " free, 
 and silence fell between them ; for one was too busy 
 with thorns, the other with thoughts, to break the 
 summer stillness. Sylvia worked with as much en 
 ergy as if a silver cup was to be the reward of success. 
 The sun shone fervently and the wind was cut off by 
 the hill, drops gathered on her forehead, and her 
 cheeks glowed; but she only pushed off her hat, 
 thrust back her hair, and moved on to a richer spot. 
 Vines caught at her by sleeve and skirt as if to dis 
 hearten the determined plunderer, but on she went 
 with a wrench and a rip, an impatient " Ah ! " and a 
 hasty glance at damaged fabrics and fingers. Lively 
 crickets flew up in swarms about her, surly wasps dis 
 puted her right to the fruit, and drunken bees blun 
 dered against her as they met, zigzagging homeward 
 much the worse for blackberry wine. She never 
 heeded any of them, though at another time she would 
 gladly have made friends with all, but found compen 
 sation for her discomforts in the busy twitter of sand- 
 swallows perched on the mullein-tops, the soft flight 
 of yellow butterflies, and the rapidity with which the 
 little canoe received its freight of "Ethiop sweets." 
 
THROUGH FLOOD AND FIELD AND FIRE. 101 
 
 As the last handful went in she sprung up, crying 
 "Done !" with a suddenness that broke up the Long 
 Parliament and sent its members skimming away 
 as if a second "Noll" had appeared among them. 
 " Done ! " came back Warwick s answer like a deep 
 echo from below, and hurrying down to meet him she 
 displayed her success, saying archly, 
 
 " I am glad we both won, though to be perfectly 
 candid I think mine is decidedly the fullest." But 
 as she swung up her birch pannier the handle broke, 
 and down went basket, berries and all, into the long 
 grass rustling at her feet. 
 
 Warwick could not restrain a laugh at the blank 
 dismay that fell upon the exultation of Sylvia s face, 
 and for a moment she was both piqued and petulant. 
 Hot, tired, disappointed, and, hardest of all, laughed 
 at, it was one of those times that try girls souls. But 
 she was too old to cry, too proud to complain, too 
 well-bred to resent, so the little gust passed over un 
 seen, she thought, and joining in the merriment she 
 said, as she knelt down beside the wreck, 
 
 " This is a practical illustration of the old proverb, 
 and I deserve it for my boasting. Next time I 11 try 
 to combine strength and beauty in my work." 
 
 To wise people character is betrayed by trifles. 
 Warwick stopped laughing, and something about the 
 girlish figure in the grass, regathering with wounded 
 hands the little harvest lately lost, seemed to touch 
 him. His face softened suddenly as he collected 
 several broad leaves, spread them on the grass, and, 
 
102 MOODS. 
 
 sitting down by Sylvia, looked under her hat-brim 
 with a glance of mingled penitence and friendliness. 
 
 " Now, young philosopher, pile up your berries in 
 that green platter while I repair the basket. Bear 
 this in mind when you work in bark : make your 
 handle the way of the grain, and choose a strip both 
 smooth and broad." 
 
 Then drawing out his knife he fell to work, and 
 while he tied green withes, as if the task were father 
 to the thought, he told her something of a sojourn 
 among the Indians, of whom he had learned much 
 concerning their woodcraft, arts, and superstitions ; 
 lengthening the legend till the little canoe was ready 
 for another launch. With her fancy full of war-trails 
 and wampum, Sylvia followed to the river-side, and 
 as they floated back dabbled her stained ringers in the 
 water, comforting their smart with its cool flow till 
 they swept by the landing-place, when she asked 
 wonderingly, 
 
 " Where are we going now ? Have I been so 
 troublesome that I must be taken home ? " 
 
 " We are going to get a third course to follow the 
 berries, unless you are afraid to trust yourself to me." 
 
 " Indeed, I m not ; take me where you like, sir." 
 
 Something in her frank tone, her confiding glance, 
 seemed to please Warwick ; he sat a moment looking 
 into the brown depths of the water, and let the boat 
 drift, with no sound but the musical drip of drops 
 from the oars. 
 
 " We are going upon a rock." 
 
THROUGH FLOOD AND FIELD AND FIRE. 103 
 
 " Not if I can help it." And a swift stroke averted 
 the shock, to send them flying down the river till 
 they reached the shore of a floating lily island. Here 
 Warwick shipped his oars, saying, 
 
 " You were asleep when we passed this morning ; 
 but I know you like lilies, so let us go a fishing." 
 
 " That I do ! " cried Sylvia, capturing a great white 
 flower with a clutch that nearly took her overboard. 
 Warwick drew her back and did the gathering him 
 self. 
 
 " Enough, quite enough ! Here are plenty to 
 trim our table and ourselves with ; leave the rest for 
 other voyagers who may come this way." 
 
 As Warwick offered her the dripping nosegay he 
 looked at the white hand scored with scarlet lines. 
 
 " Poor hand ! let the lilies comfort it. You are a 
 true woman, Miss Sylvia, for though your palm is 
 purple there s not a stain upon your lips, and you 
 have neither worked nor suffered for yourself, it 
 seems." 
 
 " I don t deserve that compliment, because I was 
 only intent on outdoing you if possible ; so you are 
 mistaken again, you see." 
 
 " Not. entirely, I think. Some faces are so true an 
 index of character that one cannot be mistaken. If 
 you doubt this, look down into the river, and such an 
 one will inevitably smile back at you." 
 
 Pleased, yet somewhat abashed, Sylvia busied her 
 self in knotting up the long brown stems and tingeing 
 her nose with yellow pollen as she inhaled the bitter- 
 
104 MOODS. 
 
 sweet breath of the lilies. But when Warwick turned 
 to resume the oars, she said, 
 
 " Let us float out as we floated in. It is so still 
 and lovely here I like to stay and enjoy it, for we 
 may never see just such a scene again." 
 
 He obeyed, and both sat silent, watching the mead 
 ows that lay green and low along the shore, feeding 
 their eyes with the beauty of the landscape, till its 
 peaceful spirit seemed to pass into their own, and 
 lend a subtle charm to that hour, which henceforth 
 was to stand apart, serene and happy, in their mem 
 ories forever. A still August day, with a shimmer 
 in the air that veiled the distant hills with the mellow 
 haze no artist ever truly caught. Midsummer warmth 
 and ripeness brooded in the verdure of field and for 
 est. Wafts of fragrance went wandering by from 
 new-mown meadows and gardens full of bloom. All 
 the sky wore its serenest blue, and up the river came 
 frolic winds, ruffling the lily leaves until they showed 
 their purple linings, sweeping shadowy ripples through 
 the long grass, and lifting the locks from Sylvia s 
 forehead with a grateful touch, as she sat softly sway 
 ing with the swaying of the boat. Slowly they drifted 
 out into the current, slowly Warwick cleft the water 
 with reluctant stroke, and slowly Sylvia s mind woke 
 from its trance of dreamy delight, as with a gesture 
 of assent she said, 
 
 "Yes, I am ready now. That was a happy little 
 moment, and I am glad to have lived it, for such 
 times return to refresh me when many a more stirring 
 
THROUGH FLOOD AND FIELD AND FIRE. 105 
 
 one is quite forgotten." A moment after she added, 
 eagerly, as a new object of interest appeared : " Mr. 
 Warwick, I see smoke. I know there is a wood on 
 fire ; I want to see it ; please land again." 
 
 He glanced over his shoulder at the black cloud 
 trailing away before the wind, saw Sylvia s desire in 
 her face, and silently complied ; for being a keen stu 
 dent of character, he was willing to prolong an inter 
 view that gave him glimpses of a nature in which the 
 woman and the child were curiously blended. 
 
 " I love fire, and that must be a grand one, if we 
 could only see it well. This bank is not high enough ; 
 let us go nearer and enjoy it," said Sylvia, finding that 
 an orchard and a knoll or two intercepted the view of 
 the burning wood. 
 
 "It is too far." 
 
 " Not at all. I am no helpless, fine lady. I can 
 walk, run, and climb like any boy ; so you need have 
 no fears for me. I may never see such a sight again, 
 and you know you d go if you were alone. Please 
 come, Mr. Warwick." 
 
 " I promised Max to take care of you, and for the 
 very reason that you love fire, I d rather not take you 
 into that furnace, lest you never come out again. Let 
 us go back immediately." 
 
 The decision of his tone ruffled Sylvia, and she 
 turned wilful at once, saying in a tone as decided as 
 his ow r n, 
 
 " No ; I wish to see it. I am always allowed to do 
 what I wish, so I shall go ; " with which mutinous 
 
106 MOODS. 
 
 remark she walked straight away towards the burn 
 ing wood. 
 
 Warwick looked after her, indulging a momentary 
 desire to carry her back to the boat, like a naughty 
 child. But the resolute aspect of the figure going on 
 before him convinced him that the attempt would be 
 a failure, and with an amused expression he leisurely 
 followed her. 
 
 Sylvia had not walked five minutes before she was 
 satisfied that it was too far ; but, having rebelled, she 
 would not own herself in the wrong, and, being per 
 verse, insisted upon carrying her point, though she 
 walked all night. On she went over walls, under rails, 
 across brooks, along the furrows of more than one 
 ploughed field and in among the rustling corn, that 
 turned its broad leaves to the sun, always in advance 
 of her companion, who followed with exemplary sub 
 mission, but also with a satirical smile, that spurred 
 her on as no other demonstration could have done. 
 Six o clock sounded from the church behind the hill ; 
 still the wood seemed to recede as she pursued, still 
 close behind her came the steady footfalls, with no 
 sound of weariness in them, and still Sylvia kept on, 
 till, breathless, but successful, she reached the object 
 of her search. 
 
 Keeping to the windward of the smoke, she gained 
 a rocky spot still warm and blackened by the late 
 passage of the flames, and, pausing there, forgot her 
 own pranks in watching those which the fire played 
 before her eyes. Many acres were burning, the air 
 
THROUGH FLOOD AND FIELD AND FIRE. 107 
 
 was full of the rush and roar of the victorious element, 
 the crash of trees that fell before it, and the shouts of 
 men who fought it unavailingly. 
 
 " Ah, this is grand ! I wish Max and Mr. Moor 
 were here. Are n t you glad you came ? " 
 
 Sylvia glanced up at her companion, as he stood 
 regarding the scene with the intent, alert expression 
 one often sees in a hound when he scents danger in 
 the air. But Warwick did not answer, for as she 
 spoke a long, sharp cry of human suffering rose above 
 the tumult, terribly distinct and full of ominous 
 suggestion. 
 
 " Some one was killed when that tree fell ! Stay 
 here till I come back. " And Adam strode away into 
 the wood as if his place were where the peril lay. 
 
 For ten minutes Sylvia waited, pale and anxious ; 
 then her patience gave out, and, saying to herself, " I 
 can go where he does, and women are always more 
 helpful than men at such times," she followed in the 
 direction whence came the fitful sound of voices. 
 The ground was hot underneath her feet, red eyes 
 winked at her from the blackened sod, and fiery 
 tongues darted up here and there, as if the flames 
 were lurking still, ready for another outbreak. In 
 tent upon her charitable errand, and excited by the 
 novel scene, she pushed recklessly on, leaping charred 
 logs, skirting still burning stumps, and peering eagerly 
 into the dun veil that wavered to and fro. The ap 
 pearance of an impassable ditch obliged her to halt, 
 and, pausing to take breath, she became aware that 
 
108 MOODS. 
 
 she had lost her way. The echo of voices had ceased, 
 a red glare was deepening in front, and clouds of 
 smoke enveloped her in a stifling atmosphere. A 
 sense of bewilderment crept over her ; she knew not 
 where she was ; and after a rapid flight in what she 
 believed a safe direction had been cut short by the 
 fall of a blazing tree before her, she stood still, taking 
 counsel with herself. Darkness and danger seemed 
 to encompass her, fire flickered on every side, and suf 
 focating vapors shrouded earth and sky. A bare rock 
 suggested one hope of safety, and, muffling her head 
 in her skirt, she lay down faint and blind, with a dull 
 pain in her temples, and a fear at her heart fast 
 deepening into terror as her breath grew painful and 
 her head began to swim. 
 
 " This is the last of the pleasant voyage ! Oh, why 
 does no one think of me ? " 
 
 As the regret rose, a cry of suffering and entreaty 
 broke from her. She had not called for help till now, 
 thinking herself too remote, her voice too feeble to 
 overpower the din about her. But some one had 
 thought of her, for as the cry left her lips, steps came 
 crashing through the wood, a pair of strong arms 
 caught her up, and before she could collect her 
 scattered senses she was set down beyond all danger 
 on the green bank of a little pool. 
 
 " Well, salamander, have you had fire enough ? " 
 asked Warwick, as he dashed a handful of water in 
 her face with such energetic good-will that it took 
 her breath away. 
 
THROUGH FLOOD AND FIELD AND FIRE. 109 
 
 " Yes, oh yes, and of water, too ! Please stop, and 
 let me get my breath ! " gasped Sylvia, warding off a 
 second baptism and staring dizzily about her. 
 
 " Why did you quit the place where I left you ? " 
 was the next question, somewhat sternly put. 
 
 " I wanted to know what had happened." 
 
 " So you walked into a bonfire to satisfy your cu 
 riosity, though you had been told to keep out of it ? 
 You d never make a Casabianca." 
 
 " I hope not, for of all silly children that boy was 
 the silliest, and he deserved to be blown up for his 
 want of common sense," cried the girl petulantly. 
 
 " Obedience is an old-fashioned virtue, which you 
 would do well to cultivate along with your common 
 sense, young lady." 
 
 Sylvia changed the subject, for Warwick stood re 
 garding her with an irate expression that was some 
 what alarming. Fanning herself with the wet hat, 
 she asked abruptly, 
 
 " Was the man hurt, sir ? " 
 
 Yes." 
 
 "Very much?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Can I not do something for him? He is very 
 far from any house, and I have some experience in 
 wounds." 
 
 " He is past all help now." 
 
 " Dead, Mr. Warwick ? " 
 
 " Quite dead." 
 
 Sylvia sat down as suddenly as she had risen, and 
 
110 MOODS. 
 
 covered her face, with a shiver, remembering that her 
 own wilfulness had tempted a like fate, and she too 
 might now have been " past help." Warwick went 
 down to the pool to bathe his hot face and blackened 
 hands ; as he returned, Sylvia met him with a sub 
 missive - 
 
 " I will go back now if you are ready, sir." 
 
 If the way had seemed long in coming, it was 
 doubly so in returning, for neither pride nor perver 
 sity sustained her now, and every step cost an effort. 
 " I can rest in the boat," was her sustaining thought ; 
 great therefore was her dismay when, on reaching the 
 river, no boat was to be seen. 
 
 " Why, Mr. Warwick, where is it ? " 
 
 " A long way down the river by this time, probably. 
 Believing that we landed only for a moment, I did 
 not fasten it, and the tide has carried it away." 
 
 " But what shall we do ? " 
 
 " One of two things, spend the night here, or go 
 round by the bridge." 
 
 " Is it far ? " 
 
 " Some three or four miles, I think." 
 
 " Is there no shorter way ? no boat or carriage to 
 be had ? " 
 
 " If you care to wait, I can look for our runaway, 
 or get a wagon from the town." 
 
 " It is growing late, and you would be gone a long 
 time, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Probably." 
 
 " Which had we better do ? " 
 
THROUGH FLOOD AND FIELD AND FIRE. Ill 
 
 " I should not venture to advise. Suit yourself, I 
 will obey orders." 
 
 " If you were alone, what would you do ? " 
 
 " Swim across." 
 
 Sylvia looked disturbed, Warwick impenetrable, 
 the river wide, the road long, and the cliffs the most 
 inaccessible of places. An impressive pause ensued, 
 then she said frankly, 
 
 "It is my own fault, and I 11 take the conse 
 quences. I choose the bridge, and leave you the 
 river. If I don t appear till dawn, tell Max I sent 
 him a good night." And girding up her energies she 
 walked bravely off, with much external composure 
 and internal chagrin. 
 
 As before, Warwick followed in silence. For a 
 time she kept in advance, then allowed him to gain 
 upon her, and presently fell behind, plodding dog 
 gedly on through thick and thin, vainly trying to 
 conceal the hunger and fatigue that were fast robbing 
 her of both strength and spirits. Adam watched her 
 with a masculine sense of the justice of the retribu 
 tion which his wilful comrade had brought upon her 
 self. But as he saw the elasticity leave her steps, 
 the color fade from her cheeks, the resolute mouth 
 relax, and the wistful eyes dim once or twice with 
 tears of weariness and vexation, pity got the better of 
 pique, and he relented. His steady tramp came to a 
 halt, and, stopping by a wayside spring, he pointed 
 to a mossy stone, saying, with no hint of superior 
 powers, 
 
112 MOODS. 
 
 " We are tired, let us rest." 
 
 Sylvia dropped down at once, and for a few minutes 
 neither spoke, for the air was full of sounds more per 
 tinent to the summer night than human voices. From 
 the copse behind them came the coo of wood-pigeons, 
 from the grass at their feet the plaintive chirp of 
 crickets ; a busy breeze whispered through the wil 
 low, the little spring dripped musically from the rock, 
 and across the meadows came the sweet chime of a 
 bell. Twilight was creeping over forest, hill, and 
 stream, and seemed to drop refreshment and repose 
 upon all weariness of soul and body, more grateful to 
 Sylvia than the welcome seat and leafy cup of water 
 Warwick brought her from the spring. 
 
 The appearance of a thirsty sparrow gave her 
 thoughts a pleasant turn, for, sitting motionless, she 
 watched the little creature trip down to the pool, 
 drink and bathe, then, flying to a willow spray, dress 
 its feathers, dry its wings, and sit chirping softly as 
 if it sang its evening hymn. Warwick saw her in 
 terest, and searching in his pocket, found the relics 
 of a biscuit, strewed a few bits upon the ground 
 before him, and began a low, sweet whistle, which 
 rose gradually to a varied strain, alluring, spirited, 
 and clear as any bird-voice of the wood. Little spar 
 row ceased his twitter, listened with outstretched 
 neck and eager eye, hopping restlessly from twig to 
 twig, until he hung just over the musician s head, agi 
 tated with a small flutter of surprise, delight, and doubt. 
 Gathering a crumb or two into his hand, Warwick held 
 
THROUGH FLOOD AND FIELD AND FIRE. 113 
 
 it toward the bird, while softer, sweeter, and more ur 
 gent rose the invitation, and nearer and nearer drew 
 the winged guest, fascinated by the spell. 
 
 Suddenly a belated blackbird lit upon the wall, 
 surveyed the group, and burst into a jubilant song, 
 that for a moment drowned his rival s notes. Then, 
 as if claiming the reward, he fluttered to the grass, 
 ate his fill, took a sip from the mossy basin by the 
 way, and flew singing over the river, leaving a trail 
 of music behind him. There was a clash and daring 
 about this which fired little sparrow with emulation. 
 His last fear seemed conquered, and he flew confid 
 ingly to Warwick s palm, pecking the crumbs with 
 grateful chirps and friendly glances from its quick, 
 bright eye. It was a pretty picture for the girl to 
 see ; the man an image of power, in his hand the 
 feathered atom, that, with unerring instinct, divined 
 and trusted the superior nature which had not yet 
 lost its passport to the world of innocent delights 
 that Nature gives to those who love her best. Invol 
 untarily Sylvia clapped her hands, and, startled by 
 the sudden sound, little sparrow skimmed away. 
 
 " Thank* you for the pleasantest sight I ve seen 
 for many a day. How did you learn this gentle art, 
 Mr. Warwick ? " 
 
 " I was a solitary boy, and found my only play 
 mates in the woods and fields. I learned their worth, 
 they saw my need, and when I asked their friend 
 ship, gave it freely. Now we should go ; you are 
 very tired, let me help you." 
 
114 MOODS. 
 
 He held his hand to her, and she put her own into 
 it with a confidence as instinctive as the bird s. 
 Then, hand in hand, they crossed the bridge and 
 struck into the wilderness again ; climbing slopes still 
 warm and odorous, passing through dells full of chilly 
 damps, along meadows spangled with fireflies and 
 haunted by sonorous frogs, over rocks crisp with pale 
 mosses, and between dark firs, where shadows brooded 
 and melancholy breezes rocked themselves to sleep ; 
 speaking seldom, yet feeling no consciousness of si 
 lence, no sense of restraint, for they no longer seemed 
 like strangers to each other, and this spontaneous 
 friendliness lent an indefinable charm to the dusky 
 walk. Warwick found satisfaction in the knowledge 
 of her innocent faith in him, the touch of the little 
 hand he held, the sight of the quiet figure at his side. 
 Sylvia felt that it was pleasant to be the object of his 
 care, fancied that they would learn to know each 
 other better in three days of this free life than in as 
 many months at home, and rejoiced over the dis 
 covery of unsuspected traits in him, like the soft 
 lining of the chestnut burr, to which she had com 
 pared him more than once that afternoon. So, mutu 
 ally and unconsciously yielding to the influence of 
 the hour and the mood it brought them, they walked 
 through the twilight in that eloquent silence which 
 often proves more persuasive than the most fluent 
 speech. 
 
 The welcome blaze of their own fire gladdened 
 them at length, and when the last step was taken, 
 
THROUGH FLOOD AND FIELD AND FIRE. 115 
 
 Sylvia sat down with an inward conviction she never 
 could get up again. Warwick told their mishap in 
 the fewest possible words, while Max, in a spasm of 
 brotherly solicitude, goaded the fire to a roar that his 
 sister s feet might be dried, administered a cordial 
 as a preventive against cold, and prescribed her ham 
 mock the instant supper was done. She went away 
 with him, but a moment after she came to Warwick 
 with a box of Prue s ointment and a soft handkerchief 
 stripped into bandages. 
 
 " What now ? " he asked. 
 
 " I wish to dress your burns, sir." 
 
 " They will do well enough with a little water ; go 
 you and rest." 
 
 " Mr. Warwick, you know you ate your supper with 
 your left hand, and put both behind you when you 
 saw me looking at them. Please let me make them 
 easier ; they were burnt for me, and I shall get no 
 sleep till I have had my way." 
 
 There was a curious mixture of command and en 
 treaty in her manner, and before their owner ha4 time 
 to refuse or comply, the scorched hands were taken 
 possession of, the red blisters covered with a cool 
 bandage, and the frown of pain smoothed out of War 
 wick s forehead by the prospect of relief. As she tied 
 the last knot, Sylvia glanced up with a look that 
 mutely asked pardon for past waywardness, and ex 
 pressed gratitude for past help ; then, as if her heart 
 were set at rest, she was gone before her patient could 
 return his thanks. 
 
116 MOODS. 
 
 She did not reappear, Max went to send a lad after 
 the lost boat, and the two friends were left alone ; 
 Warwick watching the blaze, Moor watching him, till, 
 with a nod toward a pair of diminutive boots that 
 stood turning out their toes before the fire, Adam 
 said, 
 
 " The wearer of those defiant-looking articles is the 
 most capricious piece of humanity it was ever my 
 fortune to see. You have no idea of the life she has 
 led me since you left." 
 
 " I can imagine it." 
 
 " She is as freakish and wears as many shapes as 
 Puck, a will-o-the wisp, a Sister of Charity, an im 
 perious woman, a meek-faced child, and one does 
 not know in which part she pleases most. Hard the 
 task of him who wins and tries to hold her." 
 
 " Hard, yet happy ; for a word will tame the high 
 spirit, a look touch the tender heart,- a kind act be 
 repaid with one still kinder. She is a creature to be 
 tenderly taught, and cherished with the wisest love." 
 
 Moor spoke low, and on his face the firelight seemed 
 to shed a ruddier glow than it had a moment before. 
 Warwick eyed him an instant, then said, with his 
 usual abruptness, 
 
 " Geoffrey, you should marry." 
 
 " I hope to in good time. Will you follow my ex 
 ample ? " 
 
 " When some woman is dearer to me than my lib 
 erty. It will be hard to find a mate, and I am in no 
 haste. God bless your wooing, Geoffrey." 
 
THROUGH FLOOD AND FIELD AND FIRE. 117 
 
 " And yours, Adam." 
 
 Then with a hearty hand-shake more expressive of 
 affection than many a tenderer demonstration the 
 friends parted, Warwick to watch the stars for hours, 
 and Moor to muse beside the fire till the little boots 
 were dry. 
 
MOODS. 
 
 CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 A GOLDEN WEDDING. 
 
 "1 TITHEETO they had been a most decorous crew, 
 - *- but the next morning something in the air 
 seemed to cause a general overflow of spirits, and 
 they went up the river like a party of children on a 
 merry-making. Sylvia decorated herself with vines 
 and flowers till she looked like a wood-nymph ; Max, 
 as skipper, issued his orders with the true nautical 
 twang ; Moor kept up a fire of fun-provoking raillery ; 
 Warwick sang like a jovial giant ; the Kelpie danced 
 over the water as if inspired by the universal gayety, 
 and the very ripples seemed to laugh as they hurried 
 
 by. 
 
 " This is just the day for adventures ; I hope we 
 shall have some," said Sylvia, waving her bulrush 
 wand as if to conjure up fresh delights of some sort. 
 
 "I should think you had enough yesterday to 
 satisfy even your adventurous soul," answered Max, 
 remembering her forlorn plight the night before. 
 
 "I never have enough ! Life was made to enjoy, 
 and each day ought to be different from the last; 
 then one would n t get so tired of everything. See- 
 how easy it is. Just leave the old behind and find 
 so much that is new and lovely within a few miles 
 
A GOLDEN WEDDING. 119 
 
 of home. I believe in adventures, and mean to go 
 and seek them if they don t come to me," cried Sylvia, 
 looking about her as if her new kingdom had inspired 
 her with new ambitions . 
 
 " I think an adventure is about to arrive, and a 
 very stirring one, if I may believe those black clouds 
 piling up yonder." And Warwick pointed to the sky 
 where the frolicsome west-wind seemed to have pre 
 pared a surprise for them in the shape of a thunder- 
 shower. 
 
 " I shall like that. I m fond of storms, and have no 
 fear of lightning, though it always dances round me 
 as if it had designs upon me. Let it come ; the 
 heavier the storm the better. We can sit in a barn 
 and watch it rave itself quiet," said Sylvia, looking 
 up with such an air of satisfaction the young men 
 felt reassured, and rowed on, hoping to find shelter 
 before the rain. 
 
 It was after lunch, and, refreshed by the cooler 
 wind, the deepening shadows, the rowers pulled lus 
 tily, sending the boat through the water with the 
 smooth speed given by strength and skill. Sylvia 
 steered, but often forgot her work to watch the faces 
 rising and falling before her, full of increasing reso 
 lution and vigor, for soon the race between the storm 
 and the men grew exciting. No hospitable house or 
 bam appeared, and Max, who knew the river best, 
 thought that this was one of its wildest parts, for 
 marshes lay on one hand, and craggy banks on the 
 other, with here and there a stretch of hemlocks 
 
120 MOODS. 
 
 9 
 
 leaning to their fall as the current slowly washed 
 away the soil that held their roots. A curtain of black 
 cloud edged with sullen red swept rapidly across the 
 sky, giving an unearthly look to both land and water. 
 Utter silence reigned as birds flew to covert, and cat 
 tle herded together in the fields. Only now and then 
 a long, low sigh went through the air like the pant 
 of the rising storm, or a flash of lightning without 
 thunder seemed like the glare of angry eyes. 
 
 " We are in for a drenching, if that suits you," said 
 Max, turning from the bow where he sat, ready to 
 leap out and pull the boat ashore the instant shelter 
 of any sort appeared. 
 
 " I shall just wrap my old cloak about me and not 
 mind it. Don t think of me, and if anything does 
 happen, Mr. Warwick is used to saving me, you know." 
 
 Sylvia laughed and colored as she spoke, but her 
 eyes shone and a daring spirit looked out at them as 
 if it loved danger as well as his own. 
 
 "Hold fast then, for here it comes," answered 
 Adam, dropping his oar to throw the rug about her 
 feet, his own hat into the bottom of the boat, and 
 then to look beyond her at the lurid sky with the 
 air of one who welcomed the approaching strife of 
 elements. 
 
 " Lie down and let me cover you with the sail ! " 
 cried Moor anxiously, as the first puff of the rising 
 gale swept by. 
 
 " No, no ; I want to see it all. Eow on, or land, I 
 don t care which. It is splendid, and I must have my 
 
A GOLDEN WEDDING. 121 
 
 share of it," answered Sylvia, sending her hat after 
 Warwick s, and sitting erect, eager to prove her 
 courage. 
 
 " We are safer here than in those woods, or soaking 
 in that muddy marsh, so pull away, mates, and we 
 shall reach a house before long, I arn sure. This girl 
 has had the romance of roughing it, now let us see 
 how the reality suits her." And Max folded his arms 
 to enjoy his sister s dismay, for just then, as if the 
 heavens were suddenly opened, down came a rush of 
 rain that soon drenched them to the skin. 
 
 Sylvia laughed, and shook her wet hair out of her 
 eyes, drank the great drops as they fell, and still de 
 clared that she liked it. Moor looked anxious, War 
 wick interested, and Max predicted further ills like a 
 bird of evil omen. 
 
 They came, whirlwind and rain ; thunder that deaf 
 ened, lightning that dazzled, and a general turmoil 
 that for a time might have daunted a braver heart 
 than the girl s. It is one thing to watch a storm, 
 safely housed, with feather-beds, non-conductors, and 
 friends to cling to ; but quite another thing to be out 
 in the tempest, exposed to all its perils, tossing in a 
 boat on an angry river, far from shelter, with novelty, 
 discomfort, and real danger to contend with. 
 
 But Sylvia stood the test well, seeming to find 
 courage from the face nearest her ; for that never 
 blenched when the sharpest bolt fell, the most vivid 
 flash blinded, or the gale drove them through hissing 
 water, and air too full of rain to show what rock or 
 
122 MOODS. 
 
 quicksand might lie before them. She did enjoy it in 
 spite of her pale cheeks, dilated eyes, and clutching 
 hands ; and sat in her place silent and steady, with 
 the pale glimmer of electricity about her head, while 
 the thunder crashed and tongues of fire tore the black 
 clouds, swept to and fro by blasts that bowed her 
 like a reed. 
 
 One bolt struck a tree, but it fell behind them, and 
 just as Moor was saying, " We must land ; it is no 
 longer safe here," Max cried out, 
 
 " A house ! a house ! Pull for your lives, and we 
 will be under cover in ten minutes." 
 
 Sylvia never forgot that brief dash round the bend, 
 for the men bent to their oars with a will, and the 
 Kelpie flew like a bird, while with streaming hair 
 and smiling lips the girl held fast, enjoying the rap 
 ture of swift motion ; for the friends had rowed in 
 many waters and were masters of their craft. 
 
 Landing in hot haste, they bade Sylvia run on, 
 while they paused to tie the boat and throw the sail 
 over their load, lest it should be blown away as well 
 as drenched. 
 
 When they turned to follow, they saw the girl run 
 ning down the long slope of meadow as if excitement 
 gave her wings. Max raced after her, but the others 
 tramped on together, enjoying the spectacle ; for few 
 girls know how to run or dare to try ; so this new 
 Atalanta was the more charming for the spirit and 
 speed with which she skimmed along, dropping her 
 cloak and looking back as she ran, bent on outstrip 
 ping her brother. 
 
A GOLDEN WEDDING. 123 
 
 "A pretty piece of energy. I didn t know the 
 creature had so much life in her," said Warwick, 
 laughing as Sylvia leaped a brook at a bound and 
 pressed up the slope beyond, like a hunted doe. 
 
 " Plenty of it ; that is why she likes this wild frolic 
 so heartily. She should have more of such whole 
 some excitement and less fashionable dissipation. I 
 spoke to her father about it, and persuaded Prue to 
 let her come," answered Moor, eagerly watching 
 the race. 
 
 " I thought you had been at work, or that excellent 
 piece of propriety never would have consented. You 
 can persuade the hardest-hearted, Geoffrey. I wish I 
 had your talent." 
 
 " That remains to be seen," began Moor ; then both 
 forgot what they were saying to give a cheer as Syl 
 via reached the road and stood leaning on a gate-post 
 panting, flushed, and proud, for Max had pressed her 
 hard in spite of the advantage she had at the start. 
 
 They found themselves, a moist and mirthful com 
 pany, before a red farm-house standing under ven 
 erable elrns, with a patriarchal air which promised 
 hospitable treatment and good cheer, a promise 
 speedily fulfilled by the lively old woman, who ap 
 peared with an energetic " Shoo ! " for the speckled 
 hens congregated in the porch, and a hearty welcome 
 for the weather-beaten strangers. 
 
 " Sakes alive ! " she exclaimed ; " you be in a mess, 
 ain t you ? Come right in and make yourselves to 
 home. Abel, take the men-folks up chamber, and fit 
 
124 MOODS. 
 
 em out with anything dry you kin lay hands on. 
 Phebe, see to this poor little creeter, and bring her 
 down lookin less like a drownded kitten. Nat, clear 
 up your wittlin s, so s t they kin toast their feet when 
 they come down ; and, Cinthy, don t dish up dinner 
 jest yet." 
 
 These directions were given with such vigorous 
 illustration, and the old face shone with such friendly 
 zeal, that the four submitted at once, sure that the 
 kind soul was pleasing herself in serving them, and 
 finding something very attractive in the place, the 
 people, and their own position. Abel, a staid farmer 
 of forty, obeyed his mother s order regarding the " men- 
 folks ; " and Phebe, a buxom girl of sixteen, led Syl 
 via to her own room, eagerly offering her best. 
 
 As she dried and redressed herself, Sylvia made 
 sundry discoveries, which added to the romance and 
 the enjoyment of the adventure. A smart gown lay 
 on the bed in the low chamber, also various decora 
 tions upon chair and table, suggesting that some 
 festival was afoot ; and a few questions elicited the 
 facts. Grandpa had seven sons and three daughters, 
 all living, all married, and all blessed with flocks of 
 children. Grandpa s birthday was always celebrated 
 by a family gathering ; but to-day, being the fiftieth 
 anniversary of his wedding, the various households 
 had resolved to keep it with unusual pomp ; and all 
 were coming for a supper, a dance, and a " sing " at 
 the end. Upon receipt of which intelligence Sylvia 
 proposed an immediate departure; but the grand- 
 
A GOLDEN WEDDING. 125 
 
 mother and daughter cried out at this, pointed to the 
 still falling rain, the lowering sky, the wet heap on 
 the floor, and insisted on the strangers all remaining 
 to enjoy the festival, and give an added interest by 
 their presence. 
 
 Half promising what she wholly desired, Sylvia put 
 on Phebe s best blue gingham gown, for the preser 
 vation of which she added a white apron, and, com 
 pleting the whole with a pair of capacious shoes, went 
 down to find her party, and reveal the state of affairs. 
 They were bestowed in the prim best parlor, and 
 greeted her with a peal of laughter, for all were en 
 costume. Abel was a stout man, and his garments 
 hung upon Moor with a melancholy air ; Max had 
 disdained them, and with an eye to effect, laid hands 
 on an old uniform, in which he looked like a volun 
 teer of 1812 ; while Warwick s superior height placed 
 Abel s wardrobe out of the question ; and grandpa, 
 taller than any of his seven goodly sons, supplied 
 him with a sober suit, roomy, square-flapped arid 
 venerable, which became him, and with his beard, 
 produced the curious effect of a youthful patriarch. 
 To Sylvia s relief, it was unanimously decided to re 
 main, trusting to their own penetration to discover 
 the most agreeable method of returning the favor; 
 and, regarding the adventure as a welcome change, 
 after two days solitude, all went out to dinner pre 
 pared to enact their parts with spirit. 
 
 The meal being despatched, Max and Warwick 
 went to help Abel with some out-door arrangements ; 
 
126 MOODS. 
 
 and, begging grandma to consider him one of her own 
 boys, Moor tied on an apron and fell to work with 
 Sylvia, laying the long table which was to receive the 
 coming stores. True breeding is often as soon felt by 
 the uncultivated as by the cultivated ; and the zeal 
 with which the strangers threw themselves into the 
 business of the hour won the family, and placed them 
 all in friendly relations at once. The old lady let 
 them do what they would, admiring everything, and 
 declaring over and over again that her new assistants 
 " beat her boys and girls to nothin with their tasti- 
 ness and smartness." Sylvia trimmed the table with 
 common flowers till it was an inviting sight before a 
 viand appeared upon it, and hung green boughs about 
 the room, with candles here and there to lend a festal 
 light. Moor trundled a great cheese in from the dairy, 
 brought milk-pans without mishap, disposed dishes, 
 and caused Nat to cleave to him by the administration 
 of surreptitious titbits and jocular suggestions ; while 
 Phebe tumbled about in every one s way, quite wild 
 with excitement ; and grandma stood in her pantry 
 like a culinary general, swaying a big knife for a ba 
 ton, as she issued orders and marshalled her forces, 
 the busiest and merriest of them all. 
 
 When the last touch was given, Moor discarded his 
 apron and went to join Max. Sylvia presided over 
 Phebe s toilet, and then sat herself down to support 
 JSTat through the trying half-hour before the party 
 arrived. The twelve years boy was a cripple, one of 
 those household blessings which, in the guise of an 
 
A GOLDEN WEDDING. 127 
 
 affliction, keep many hearts tenderly united by a com 
 mon love and pity. A cheerful creature, always chirp 
 ing like a cricket on the hearth, as he sat carving or 
 turning bits of wood into useful or ornamental shapes 
 for such as cared to buy them of him, and hoarding 
 up the proceeds like a little miser for one more help 
 less than himself. 
 
 " What are these, Nat ? " asked Sylvia, with the in 
 terest that always won small people, because their 
 quick instincts felt that it was sincere. 
 
 " Them are spoons postle spoons, they call em. 
 You see I Ve got a cousin what reads a sight, and one 
 day he says to me, Nat, in a book I see somethin about 
 a set of spoons with a postle s head on each of em ; 
 you make some and they 11 sell, I bet. So I got 
 gramper s Bible, found the picters of the postles, and 
 worked and worked till I got the faces good ; and now 
 it s fan, for they do sell, and I in savin up a lot. It 
 ain t for me, you know, but mother, cause she s wuss n 
 I be." 
 
 " Is she sick, Nat ? " 
 
 " Oh, ain t she ! Why she has n t stood up this 
 nine year. We was smashed in a wagon that tipped 
 over when I was three years old. It done somethin 
 to my legs, but it broke her back, and made her no 
 use, only jest to pet me, and -keep us all kind of 
 stiddy, you know. Ain t you seen her ? Don t you 
 want to ? " 
 
 "Would she, like it?" 
 
 " She admires to see folks, and asked about you at 
 
128 MOODS. 
 
 dinner; so I guess you d better go see her. Look 
 ahere, you like them spoons, and I m agoin to give 
 you one ; I d give you all on em if they was n t 
 promised. I can make one more in time, so you jest 
 take your pick, cause I like you, and want you not 
 to forgit me." 
 
 Sylvia chose Saint John, because it resembled Moor, 
 she thought ; bespoke and paid for a whole set, and 
 privately resolved to send tools and rare woods to 
 the little artist that he might serve his mother in his 
 own pretty way. Then Nat took up his crutches and 
 hopped nimbly before her to the room, where a plain, 
 serene-faced woman lay knitting, with her best cap 
 on, her clean handkerchief and large green fan laid 
 out upon the coverlet. This was evidently the best 
 room of the house ; and as Sylvia sat talking to the 
 invalid her eye discovered many traces of that refine 
 ment which comes through the affections. Nothing 
 seemed too good for " daughter Patience ; " birds, 
 books, flowers, and pictures were plentiful here though 
 visible nowhere else. Two easy-chairs beside the bed 
 showed where the old folks oftenest sat ; Abel s home 
 corner was there by the antique desk covered with 
 farmers literature and samples of seeds; Phebe s 
 work-basket stood in the window ; Nat s lathe in the 
 sunniest corner ; and from the speckless carpet to 
 the canary s clear water-glass all was exquisitely neat, 
 for love and labor were the handmaids who served the 
 helpless woman and asked no wages but her comfort. 
 
 Sylvia amused her new friends mightily ; for, finding 
 
A GOLDEN WEDDING. 129 
 
 that neither mother nor son had any complaints to 
 make, any sympathy to ask, she exerted herself to 
 give them what both needed, and kept them laughing 
 by a lively recital of her voyage and its mishaps. 
 
 " Ain t she prime, mother ? " was Nat s candid com 
 mentary when the story ended, and he emerged red 
 and shiny from the pillows where he had burrowed 
 with boyish explosions of delight. 
 
 " She s very kind, dear, to amuse two stay-at-home 
 folks like you and me, who seldom see what s going 
 on outside four walls. You have a merry heart, miss, 
 and I hope will keep it all your days, for it s a blessed 
 thing to own." 
 
 " I think you have something better, a contented 
 one," said Sylvia, as the woman regarded her with no 
 sign of envy or regret. 
 
 " I ought to have ; nine years on a body s back can 
 teach a sight of things that are wuth knowin . I Ve 
 learnt patience pretty well, I guess, and contentedness 
 ain t fur away ; for though it sometimes seems ruther 
 long to look forward to, perhaps nine more years layin 
 here, I jest remember it might have been wuss, and 
 if I don t do much now there s all eternity to come." 
 
 Something in the woman s manner struck Sylvia 
 as she watched her softly beating some tune on the 
 sheet with her quiet eyes turned toward the light. 
 Many sermons had been less eloquent to the girl than 
 the look, the tone, the cheerful resignation of that 
 plain face. She stooped and kissed it, saying gently, 
 
 " I shall remember this." 
 
 9 
 
130 MOODS. 
 
 " Hooray ! there they be ; I hear Ben ! " 
 
 And away clattered Nat to be immediately absorbed 
 into the embraces of a swarm of relatives who now 
 began to arrive in a steady stream. Old and young, 
 large and small, rich and poor, with overflowing hands 
 or trifles humbly given, all were received alike, all 
 hugged by grandpa, kissed by grandma, shaken half 
 breathless by Uncle Abel, welcomed by Aunt Patience, 
 and danced round by Phebe and Nat till the house 
 seemed a great hive of hilarious and affectionate bees. 
 At first the strangers stood apart, but Phebe spread 
 their s.tory with such complimentary additions of her 
 own that the family circle opened wide and took them 
 in at once. 
 
 Sylvia was enraptured with the wilderness of babies, 
 and, leaving the others to their own devices, followed 
 the matrons to " Patience s room," and gave herself 
 up to the pleasant tyranny of the small potentates, 
 who swarmed over her as she sat on the floor, tugging 
 at her hair, exploring her eyes, covering her with 
 moist kisses, and keeping up a babble of little voices 
 more delightful to her than the discourse of the 
 flattered mammas who benignly surveyed her admi 
 ration and their offspring s prowess. 
 
 The young people went to romp in the barn ; the 
 men, armed with umbrellas, turned out en masse to 
 inspect the farm and stock, and compare notes over 
 pig-pens and garden gates. But Sylvia lingered where 
 she was, enjoying a scene which filled her with a ten 
 der pain and pleasure ; for each baby was laid on 
 
A GOLDEN WEDDING. 131 
 
 grandma s knee, its small virtues, vices, ailments, and 
 accomplishments rehearsed, its beauties examined, its 
 strength tested, and the verdict of the family oracle 
 pronounced upon it as it was cradled, kissed, and 
 blessed on the kind old heart which had room for 
 every care and joy of those who called her mother. 
 It was a sight the girl never forgot, because just then 
 she was ready to receive it. Her best lessons did not 
 come from books, and she learned one then as she saw 
 the fairest success of a woman s life while watching 
 this happy grandmother with fresh faces framing her 
 withered one, daughterly voices chorusing good wishes, 
 and the harvest of half a century of wedded life beau 
 tifully garnered in her arms. 
 
 The fragrance of coffee and recollections of Cynthia s 
 joyful aberrations at such periods caused a breaking 
 up of the maternal conclave. The babies were borne 
 away to simmer between blankets until called for. 
 The women unpacked baskets, brooded over teapots, 
 and kept up an harmonious clack as the table was 
 spread with pyramids of cake, regiments of pies, quag 
 mires of jelly, snow-banks of bread, and gold mines 
 of butter ; every possible article of food, from baked 
 beans to wedding cake, finding a place on that sacri 
 ficial altar. 
 
 Fearing to be in the way, Sylvia departed to the 
 bam, where she found her party in a chaotic Babel ; 
 for the offshoots had been as fruitful as the parent 
 tree, and some four dozen young immortals were in 
 full riot. The bashful roosting with the hens on 
 
132 MOODS. 
 
 remote lofts and beams ; the bold flirting or playing 
 in the full light of day ; the boys whooping, the girls 
 screaming, all effervescing as if their spirits had 
 reached the explosive point and must find vent in 
 noise. Max was in his element, introducing all man 
 ner of new games, the liveliest of the old, and keeping 
 the revel at its height ; for rosy, bright-eyed girls were 
 plenty, and the ancient uniform universally approved. 
 Warwick had a flock of lads about him absorbed in 
 the marvels he was producing with knife, stick, and 
 string ; and Moor, a rival flock of little lasses breathless 
 with interest in the tales he told. One on each knee, 
 two at each side, four in a row on the hay at his feet, 
 and the boldest of all with an arm about his neck 
 and a curly head upon his shoulder, for Uncle Abel s 
 clothes seemed to invest the wearer with a passport 
 to their confidence at once. Sylvia joined this group, 
 and partook of a quiet entertainment with as child 
 like a relish as any of them, while the merry tumult 
 went on about her. 
 
 The toot of the horn sent the whole barnful stream 
 ing into the house like a flock of hungry chickens, 
 where, by some process known only to the mothers of 
 large families, every one was wedged close about the 
 table, and the feast began. This was none of your 
 stand-up, wafery, bread-and-butter teas, but a thorough 
 going, sit-down supper, and all settled themselves with 
 a smiling satisfaction, prophetic of great powers and 
 an equal willingness to employ them. A detachment 
 of half-grown girls was drawn up behind grandma, as 
 
A GOLDEN WEDDING. 133 
 
 waiters ; Sylvia insisted on being one of them, and 
 proved herself a neat-handed Phillis, though for a 
 time slightly bewildered by the gastronomic perform 
 ances she beheld. Babies ate pickles, small boys 
 sequestered pie with a velocity that made her wink, 
 women swam in the tea, and the men, metaphorically 
 speaking, swept over the table like a swarm of locusts, 
 while the host and hostess beamed upon one another 
 and their robust descendants with an honest pride, 
 which was beautiful to see. 
 
 " That Mr. Wackett ain t eat scursely nothin , he 
 jest sets lookin round kinder mazed like. Do go 
 and make him fall to on something or I sha n t take a 
 mite of comfort in my vittles," said grandma, as the 
 girl came with an empty cup. 
 
 " He is enjoying it with all his heart and eyes, ma am, 
 for we don t see such fine spectacles every day. I 11 
 take him something that he likes and make him eat it." 
 
 " Sakes alive ! be you to be Mis Wackett ? I d 
 no idee of it, you look so young." 
 
 " ISTor I ; we are only friends, ma am." 
 
 " Oh ! " and the monosyllable was immensely ex 
 pressive, as the old lady confided a knowing nod to 
 the teapot, into whose depths she was just then peer 
 ing. Sylvia walked away wondering why persons 
 were always thinking and saying such things. 
 
 As she paused behind Warwick s chair with a glass 
 of new milk and a round of brown bread, he looked 
 up at her with his blandest expression, though a touch 
 of something like regret was in his voice. 
 
134 MOODS. 
 
 " This is a sight worth living eighty hard years to 
 see, and I envy that old couple as I never envied any 
 one before. To rear ten virtuous children, put ten 
 useful men and women into the world, and give them 
 health and courage to work out their own salvation 
 as these honest souls will do, is a better job done for 
 the Lord, than winning a battle or ruling a State. 
 Here is all honor to them. Drink it with me." 
 
 He put the glass to her lips, drank what she left, 
 and, rising, placed her in his seat with the decisive 
 air which few resisted. 
 
 " You take no thought for yourself and are doing 
 too much ; sit here a little, and let me take a few 
 steps where you have taken many." 
 
 He served her, and, standing at her back, bent now 
 and then to speak, still with that softened look upon 
 the face so seldom stirred by the gentler emotions that 
 lay far down in that deep heart of his. 
 
 All things must have an end, even a family feast, 
 and by the time the last boy s buttons peremptorily 
 announced, " Thus far shalt thou go and no farther," 
 all professed themselves satisfied, and a general upris 
 ing took place. The surplus population were herded 
 in parlor and chambers, while a few energetic hands 
 cleared away, and with much clattering of dishes and 
 wafting of towels, left grandma s clean premises as 
 immaculate as ever. It was dark when all was done, 
 so the kitchen was cleared, the candles lighted, Pa 
 tience s door set open, and little Nat established in 
 an impromptu orchestra, composed of a table and a 
 
A GOLDEN WEDDING. 135 
 
 chair, whence the first squeak of his fiddle proclaimed 
 that the ball had begun. 
 
 Everybody danced ; the babies, stacked on Patience s 
 bed or penned behind chairs, sprawled and pranced 
 in unsteady mimicry of their elders. Ungainly farm 
 ers, stiff with labor, recalled their early days, and 
 tramped briskly as they swung their wives about 
 with a kindly pressure of the hard hands that had 
 worked so long together. Little pairs toddled gravely 
 through the figures, or frisked promiscuously in a 
 grand conglomeration of arms and legs. Gallant 
 cousins kissed pretty cousins at exciting periods, and 
 were not rebuked. Max wrought several of these in 
 cipient lovers to a pitch of despair, by his devotion 
 to the comeliest damsels, and the skill with which he 
 executed unheard-of evolutions before their admiring 
 eyes. Moor led out the poorest and the plainest with 
 a respect that caused their homely faces to shine, and 
 their scant skirts to be forgotten. Warwick skimmed 
 his five years partner through the air in a way that 
 rendered her speechless with delight; and Sylvia 
 danced as she never danced before. With sticky- 
 fingered boys, sleepy with repletion, but bound to 
 last it out ; with rough-faced men who paid her pater 
 nal compliments ; with smart youths who turned 
 sheepish with that white lady s hand in their big 
 brown ones, and one ambitious lad who confided to 
 her his burning desire to work a sawmill, and marry 
 a girl with black eyes and yellow hair. While, 
 perched aloft, Nat bowed away till his pale face 
 
136 MOODS. 
 
 glowed, till all hearts warmed, all feet beat responsive 
 to the good old tunes which have put so much health 
 into human bodies, and so much happiness into human 
 souls. 
 
 At the stroke of nine the last dance came. All 
 down the long kitchen stretched two breathless rows ; 
 grandpa and grandma at the top, the youngest pair of 
 grandchildren at the bottom, and all between fathers, 
 mothers, uncles, aunts, and cousins, while such of the 
 babies as were still extant bobbed with unabated 
 vigor, as Nat struck up the Virginia Reel, and the 
 sturdy old couple led off as gallantly as the young one 
 who came tearing up to meet them. Away they went, 
 grandpa s white hair flying in the wind, grandma s 
 impressive cap awry with excitement, as they ambled 
 down the middle, and finished with a kiss when their 
 tuneful journey was done, amid immense applause 
 from those who regarded this as the crowning event 
 of the day. 
 
 When all had had their turn, and twirled till they 
 were dizzy, a short lull took place, with refreshments 
 for such as still possessed the power of enjoying them. 
 Then Phebe appeared with an armful of books, and 
 all settled themselves for the family " sing." 
 
 Sylvia had heard much fine music, but never any 
 that touched her like this, for, though often discordant, 
 it was hearty, with that undercurrent of feeling which 
 adds sweetness to the rudest lay, and is often more 
 attractive than the most florid ornament or faultless 
 execution. Every one sang as every one had danced, 
 
A GOLDEN WEDDING. 137 
 
 with all their might ; shrill children, soft- voiced girls, 
 lullaby-singing mothers, gruff boys, and strong-lunged 
 men ; the old pair quavered, and still a few indefati 
 gable babies crowed behind their little coops. Songs, 
 ballads, comic airs, popular melodies, and hymns 
 came in rapid succession. And when they ended 
 with that song which should be classed with sacred 
 music for association s sake, and, standing hand in 
 hand about the room with the golden bride and bride 
 groom in their midst, sang "Home," Sylvia leaned 
 against her brother with dim eyes and a heart too full 
 to sing. 
 
 Still standing thus when the last note had soared 
 up and died, the old man folded his hands and began 
 to pray. It was an old-fashioned prayer, such as the 
 girl had never heard from the Bishop s lips ; ungram- 
 matical, inelegant, and long. A quiet talk with God, 
 manly in its straightforward confession of short 
 comings, childlike in its appeal for guidance, fervent 
 in its gratitude for all good gifts, and the crowning 
 one of loving children. As if close intercourse had 
 made the two familiar, this human father turned to 
 the Divine, as these sons and daughters turned to him, 
 as free to ask, as confident of a reply, as all afflictions, 
 blessings, cares, and crosses were laid down before 
 him, and the work of eighty years submitted to his 
 hand. There were no sounds in the room but the one 
 voice often tremulous with emotion and with age, the 
 coo of some dreaming baby, or the low sob of some 
 mother whose arms were empty, as the old man stood 
 
138 MOODS. 
 
 there, rugged and white atop as the granite hills, with 
 the old wife at his side, a circle of sons and daughters 
 girdling them round, and in all hearts the thought that 
 as the former wedding had been made for time, this 
 golden one at eighty must be for eternity. 
 
 While Sylvia looked and listened, a sense of genu 
 ine devotion stole over her ; the beauty and the worth 
 of prayer grew clear to her through the earnest speech 
 of that unlettered man, and for the first time she fully 
 felt the nearness and the dearness of the Universal 
 Father, whom she had been taught to fear, yet longed 
 to love. 
 
 " Now, my children, you must go before the little 
 folks are tuckered out," said Grandpa heartily. 
 " Mother and rne can t say enough toe thank you for 
 the presents you have fetched us, the dutiful wishes 
 you have give us, the pride and comfort you have al- 
 ers ben toe us. I ain t no hand at speeches, so I sha n t 
 make none, but jest say ef any fliction falls on any 
 on you, remember mother s here toe help you bear it ; 
 ef any worldly loss conies toe you, remember father s 
 house is yourn while it stans, and so the Lord bless 
 and keep us all." 
 
 " Three cheers for gramper and grammer ! " roared a 
 six-foot scion as a safety-valve for sundry unmasculine 
 emotions, and three rousing hurras made the rafters 
 ring, struck terror to the heart of the oldest inhabi 
 tant of the rat-haunted garret, and summarily woke 
 all the babies. 
 
 Then the good-byes began ; the flurry of wrong bas- 
 
A GOLDEN WEDDING. 139 
 
 kets, pails and bundles in wrong places ; the sorting 
 out of small folk too sleepy to know or care what 
 became of them ; the maternal duckings and paternal 
 shouts for Kitty, Cy, Ben, Bill, or Mary Ann; the 
 piling into vehicles with much ramping of indignant 
 horses unused to such late hours ; the last farewells, 
 the roll of wheels, as one by one the happy loads de 
 parted, and peace fell upon the household for another 
 year. 
 
 " I declare for t, I never had sech an out an out 
 good time sense I was born into the world. A brarn, 
 you are fit to drop, and so be I ; now let s set and talk 
 it over along of Patience Tore we go to bed." 
 
 The old couple got into their chairs, and as they sat 
 there side by side, remembering that she had given no 
 gift, Sylvia crept behind them, and, lending the magic 
 of her voice to the simple air, sang the fittest song for 
 time and place, " John Anderson, my Jo." It was 
 too much for grandma, the old heart overflowed, and 
 reckless of the cherished cap she laid her head on her 
 " John s " shoulder, exclaiming through her tears, 
 
 " That s the cap sheaf of the hull, and I can t bear 
 no more to-night. A bram, lend me your hankchif, 
 for I dunno where mine is, and my face is all of a 
 drip." 
 
 Before the red bandanna in grandpa s hand had gen 
 tly performed its work, Sylvia slipped away to share 
 Phebe s bed in the old garret ; lying long awake, full 
 of new and happy thoughts, and lulled to sleep at last 
 by the pleasant patter of the rain upon the roof. 
 
140 MOODS. 
 
 CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 SEKMONS. 
 
 rpHE summer shower was over long before dawn, 
 -*- and the sun rose, giving promise of a sultry day. 
 It was difficult to get away, for the good people found 
 their humdrum life much enlivened by these pleasant 
 guests. The old lady consoled herself by putting up 
 a sumptuous lunch from the relics of the feast ; the 
 grateful wanderers left their more solid thanks in 
 Nat s pocket, and departed with friendliest farewells. 
 
 It was Sunday, and the chime of distant church 
 bells tolled them sweetly down the river, till the heat 
 drove them to the refreshing shade of three great oaks 
 in a meadow \vhere a spring bubbled up among the 
 gnarled roots of one tree to overflow its mossy basin, 
 and steal into the brook babbling through the grass. 
 
 Here they lunched, and rested, the young men go 
 ing off to bathe, and Sylvia falling asleep among the 
 ferns that fringed the old oak like elves dancing round 
 a giant. A delicious hour for her, so still, so green, 
 so grateful was all about her, so peaceful her own 
 spirit, so dreamless her tranquil slumber. Nature 
 seemed to have taken her restless little child to her 
 beneficent bosom, and blessed her with the sleep 
 which comforts mind and body. 
 
SERMONS. 141 
 
 So Warwick thought, coming upon her unaware as 
 he paused to drink, and a soft gust parted the tall 
 ferns that waved above her. She looked so young, 
 so peaceful, and so happy on her green couch, with the 
 light shadows flickering on her face, her head pillowed 
 on her arms, ease, grace, and the loveliness of youth- 
 in every limb and outline, that Warwick could not 
 resist the desire to linger for a moment. 
 
 Max would have seen a pretty picture ; Moor, the 
 creature whom he loved; Adam seemed to see not 
 only what she was, but what she might be. Some 
 faces are blank masks when asleep, some betray the 
 lower nature painfully, others seem to grow almost 
 transparent and let the soul shine through. This 
 comes oftenest when suffering has refined the flesh, or 
 death touched it with the brief beauty that writes the 
 story of a lifetime on perishable clay before it crum 
 bles into dust. In certain high and happy moods un 
 consciousness brings out harmonious lines, soft tints, 
 and ennobles a familiar face till we feel that we see 
 the true self, and recognize the soul we love. 
 
 It seemed so then ; and as he leaned against the oak, 
 listening to the music of the brook and looking down 
 at the winsome figure at his feet, Warwick found him 
 self shaping the life and character of the woman still 
 folded up in the girl, and shaping it to fit an ideal he 
 had made and cherished, yet never met. An heroic 
 creature, strong and sweet, aspiring as a flame, and 
 true as steel. Not an impossible woman, but a rare 
 one ; and the charm Sylvia had for him was a sug- 
 
142 MOODS. 
 
 gestion of this possibility when time had taught and 
 discipline tamed the wildness that was akin to his 
 own. 
 
 He let his daring fancy paint her as she would be 
 ten years hence, himself her lover, and the life they 
 might lead together, as free as his was now, but hap 
 pier for the inspiration of such sweet and helpful 
 comradeship. 
 
 He had forgotten Sylvia, and was just entering a 
 new world with the noble mate he had evoked from 
 his own ardent and powerful imagination, when Moor s 
 distant voice startled him, and, as if unready to be 
 seen in that soft mood, he swung himself up into the 
 tree, rapidly disappearing in the green wilderness 
 above. 
 
 The same sound roused Sylvia, and made her hasten 
 to bathe her face with cool drops caught in her hands, 
 to rebraid her long hair, and re trim her dress with 
 knots of wild-flowers at throat and belt ; then, her rus 
 tic toilet made, she stepped out of her nest, rosy, fresh, 
 and sunny as a little child just waking from its nap. 
 
 Fancying a green band for her head, she strolled 
 away to the river-side where the rushes grew, and 
 took her little Bible with her, remembering the com 
 mands pious Prue laid upon her " not to be quite a 
 heathen while she was gone." 
 
 She lingered for half an hour, feeling unusually de 
 vout in that tranquil spot, with no best clothes to 
 disturb her thoughts, no over-fussy sister to vex her 
 spirit, no neglected duties or broken resolutions to 
 
SERMONS. 143 
 
 make church-going a penitential period of remorse. 
 When she returned to the oaks she found the three 
 friends discussing religion as young men seldom fail 
 to do in these days of speculation and spiritual dis 
 content. She modestly hovered at a distance till a 
 pause came, then approached, asking meekly, 
 
 " Please, could I come to church if I sit very still ? " 
 
 " Come on," said Max, from the grass where he was 
 lying. 
 
 Moor sprang up to offer her the rug with an air of 
 welcome which she could not doubt, and Warwick 
 nodded with a somewhat belligerent expression, as if 
 suddenly checked in some verbal tournament. 
 
 " Prue said if we stayed over Sunday I must go to 
 church, and I have done my best," said Sylvia, glanc 
 ing at the little book in her hand. " Now, if Mr. 
 Moor or Mr. Warwick would give us a sermon, Max 
 and I can say we obeyed her." 
 
 <l Come, Geoffrey, your memory is full of good and 
 pious poetry ; give us something new and true. We 
 need n t sing it, but it may suggest a sermon, and that 
 is more in Adam s line than yours," added Max, ready 
 to while away another hour till the afternoon grew 
 cooler. 
 
 Moor thought a moment, and then, as if their con 
 versation suggested it, repeated one of Herbert s quaint 
 old hymns. 
 
 Lord, with what care hast thou begirt us round ! 
 
 Parents first season us: then schoolmasters 
 Deliver us to laws ; they send us bound 
 To rules of reason, holy messengers, 
 
144 MOODS. 
 
 " Pulpits and Sundayes, sorrow dogging sinne, 
 
 Afflictions sorted, anguish of all t>izes, 
 Fine nets and stratagems to catch us in ; 
 Bibles laid open, millions of surprises ; 
 
 "Blessings beforehand, tyes of gratefulnesse ; 
 The sound of glorie ringing in our eares ; 
 Without, our shame ; within, our consciences ; 
 Angels and grace, eternall hopes and f eares. 
 
 "Yet all these fences and their whole array, 
 One cunning bosome-sin blows quite away." 
 
 " There is your text, Adam, take it and hold forth ; 
 you were born for a field preacher and have missed 
 your vocation. I wish you would turn minister and 
 beat the dust out of some of the old pulpit cushions, 
 for we need a livelier theology than most of us get 
 nowadays," said Max, as Moor paused and Sylvia 
 looked as if the hymn pleased her much. 
 
 " If I did stray into a pulpit you would get the 
 gospel undiluted, and sins of all sorts would fare 
 hardly, for I would cry aloud and spare not." 
 
 " Try it now ; it will be immensely amusing to be 
 raked fore and aft while lounging here as if we were 
 getting to heaven on flowery beds of ease. Begin 
 with me. I m fair game, and furnish material for a 
 dozen sermons on a dozen sins," laughed Max, hoping 
 to draw his friend out and astonish his sister. 
 
 " Good ! I will." And Warwick looked as if bela 
 boring frail humanity was a task he relished. 
 
 " Your bosom sin is indolence of soul and body, 
 heart and mind. Fortune has been your bane, liberty 
 
SERMONS. 145 
 
 ill used, life your plaything, not your lesson ; for you 
 have not learned how to use either fortune, liberty, or 
 life. Pride is your only energy ; patience simple en 
 durance of whatever you have not courage to over 
 come ; ambition a vacillating desire for success which 
 every failure lessens, and the aim of existence is to be 
 carried painlessly through a world waiting for every 
 man to help on its salvation by making his own life 
 a victory, not a defeat. Shall I go on ? " 
 
 " Fire away ; every shot tells. It is rather sharp 
 rifle-practice while it lasts, but the target is the better 
 for it, I dare say." 
 
 Max spoke gayly and still lounged on the grass ; but 
 Sylvia knew, by the gesture that half averted his face, 
 and the interest with which he punched holes in the 
 turf, that it was rather hard upon one more used to 
 praise than blame. Warwick knew it also, and there 
 was a perceptible softening of the ruthless voice as he 
 went on. 
 
 " You need a purpose, Max, an object beyond your 
 own satisfaction or success. This would show you 
 what good gifts you now neglect, teach you their uses, 
 and prove to you that the best culture lies in perfect 
 ing these tools for the education of yourself and 
 others. Adversity may spur you into action, love may 
 supply a noble motive, or experience make you what 
 you should be, a man with a work and a will to do it. 
 You owe this to your father, and I believe the debt 
 will be honestly paid." 
 
 "It shall be !" And Max sat up with a sudden 
 10 
 
146 MOODS. 
 
 energy pleasant to behold. Resolution, regret, and 
 affection made his usually listless face manly and seri 
 ous as well as tender, for that allusion to his father 
 touched him, and the thought of Jessie lightened a 
 task he knew would be a very hard one. 
 
 Always quick to spare others embarrassment or 
 pain, Moor said pleasantly, " Now take the. next mem 
 ber of your flock, and do not spare him, Adam." 
 
 Warwick looked as if he would rather let this sheep 
 go, but, loving justice as well as truth, he hardened his 
 heart and spoke out. 
 
 You are enamored of self-sacrifice, Geoffrey, and 
 if you lived in monkish times would wear a spiked 
 girdle or haircloth shirt, lest you should be too com 
 fortable. Unlike Max, you polish your tools carefully 
 and are skilful in handling them, but you use them 
 entirely for others, forgetting that we owe a good deal 
 to ourselves. You have made a small circle your 
 world, and lived in the affections too much. You need 
 a larger life and more brain-work to keep you from 
 growing narrow or weak. One sacrifice beautifully and 
 faithfully made must have its reward. For years you 
 have lived for others, now learn to live a little for 
 yourself, heartily and happily, else the feminine in 
 you will get the uppermost." 
 
 " Thank you, I will as soon as possible." And Moor 
 gave Warwick a look which was both grateful and 
 glad, since the friendly advice confirmed a cherished 
 purpose of his own. 
 
 " Lost lamb, come into the fold and be shorn ! " 
 
SERMONS. 147 
 
 called Max, enjoying Sylvia s face, which wore an ex 
 pression of mingled interest, amusement, and trepi 
 dation. With a start she gathered herself up, and 
 went to sit on a little stone before the censor, folding 
 her hands and meekly asking, 
 
 " What must / do ? " 
 
 " Forget yourself." 
 
 Sylvia colored to her brow, but answered bravely, 
 
 11 Show me how." 
 
 " My panacea for most troubles is work. Try it, 
 and I think you will find that it will promote that 
 healthfulness of spirit which is the life of life. Don t 
 let fogs hide your sunshine ; don t worry your young 
 wits with metaphysics, or let romantic dreams take the 
 charm from the wholesome, homely realities, without 
 which we cannot live sanely and safely. Get out of 
 yourself awhile, and when you go back you will find, 
 I hope, a happy soul in a healthy body, and be what 
 God intended you to be, a brave and noble woman." 
 
 Warwick saw the girl s color rise, her eyes fall, and 
 in her face a full acknowledgment of the veracity of 
 both censure and commendation. That satisfied him, 
 and before she could speak he turned on Max, saying 
 with a sudden change from gentle gravity to the sa 
 tirical tone more habitual to him, 
 
 " ISTow you will say, Physician, heal thyself, and 
 ask for my chief sin. I 11 give you a sample of it." 
 
 Then, looking very much like a war-horse when 
 trumpets blow, he launched into a half-earnest, half- 
 humorous philippic against falsehood everywhere, giv- 
 
148 MOODS. 
 
 ing to his vigorous speech the aids of satire, sense, 
 and an unusually varied experience for one of his age. 
 Max sat up and applauded, Moor listened with de 
 light, and Sylvia felt as if the end of all things was at 
 hand. Such an audacious onslaught upon established 
 customs, creeds, and constitutions, she had never heard 
 before ; for, as Warwick charged, down went the stern 
 religion that preaches heaven for the saint and hell 
 for the sinner, the base legislation which decrees lib 
 erty to the white and slavery to the black, the false 
 public opinion that grants all suffrages to man and 
 none to woman yet judges both alike, all knavery in 
 high places, all gilded shams, all dead beliefs, and up 
 went the white banner of infinite justice, truth, and 
 love. It was a fight well fought but not wholly won ; 
 for in spite of sagacity, eloquence, and zeal, Warwick s 
 besetting sin was indomitable, and those who listened, 
 while they owned the sincerity, felt the power, ad 
 mired the enthusiasm, saw that this valiant St. George 
 rode without a Una, and in executing justice forgot 
 mercy, like many another young crusader who, in his 
 ardor to set up the New Jerusalem, breaks the com 
 mandments of the Divine Eeformer who immortalized 
 the old. 
 
 When at last he reined himself in, looking ready 
 for another breakage of idols at the slightest provoca 
 tion, Max said with a waggish glance at his sister, 
 
 " You seem to be holding on to that stone as if you 
 thought the foundations of the earth were giving 
 way. How do you like your sermon, Sylvia ? " 
 
SERMONS. 149 
 
 " Very much, what I understand of it ; but I do 
 feel as if there had been an earthquake, and it will 
 take me some time to get settled again. It is a little 
 startling to have all the props one has been taught 
 to lean upon knocked away at once, and be left to 
 walk alone without quite knowing where the road 
 ends." 
 
 Max laughed ; Moor looked as if she had exactly 
 expressed the feeling most persons felt after one of 
 Adam s " upheavals," as his friend called them ; but 
 Warwick said, with his decided nod, as if well 
 pleased, 
 
 " That is just as it should be. I m a pioneer, and 
 love to plough in any soil, no matter how sandy or 
 rough it may be. The sower comes after me, and if 
 the harvest is a good one, I^am satisfied to do the hard 
 work without wages." 
 
 He certainly received them this time, for Sylvia 
 looked up at him as he rose, evidently tired of longer 
 repose, and said, with the sweetest confidence and 
 gratitude in her face, 
 
 " Let rne thank you for this and many other les 
 sons which will set me thinking, and help me to be 
 what you so kindly hope. I shall not forget them, 
 and trust they have not fallen on a barren soil." 
 
 It was not a child s face that Warwick saw then, 
 but a woman s, earnest, humble, and lovely with the 
 awakening of an innocent, aspiring soul. Involunta 
 rily he took his hat off, with a look both reverent and 
 soft. 
 
150 MOODS. 
 
 " A virgin soil is always the richest, and I have no 
 fear that the harvest will fail. Heaven send you sun 
 and rain, and a wise husbandman to help you gather 
 it in." 
 
 Then he went away to get the boat ready for the 
 evening sail. Max went off to a farm-house for milk, 
 and Moor and Sylvia were left alone. 
 
 Touched to the heart by the blessing that came 
 with redoubled power from lips so lately full of de 
 nunciation, the girl still sat upon her little stone, seem 
 ingly wrapped in thoughts that both excited and 
 troubled her, for presently she sighed. 
 
 Moor, who lay reading in the grass, stealing a 
 glance at his companion now and then, was glad of 
 an opportunity to speak, and, sitting up, asked in his 
 friendly voice, 
 
 " Has all this talk tired you ? " 
 
 " No, it has stirred me up and made me feel as if I 
 must lay hold of something at once, or drift away 
 I don t know where. Mr. Warwick has pulled iny 
 world to pieces, but> has given me no other, and I 
 don t know where to look. His philosophy is too 
 large for me, I get lost in it, and though I admire 
 I cannot manage it yet, and so feel bewildered." Syl 
 via spoke out as if the thoughts in her mind must 
 find a vent at any cost, and to no one could she so 
 freely utter them as to this friend who was always 
 kind and patient with her moods. 
 
 " You must not let Adam s thunder and lightning 
 disturb you. We have seen the world through his 
 
SERMONS. 151 
 
 glass, which, though a powerful one, is not always 
 well regulated, so we get a magnified view of things. 
 He is a self-reliant genius, intent on his own aims, 
 which, fortunately, are high ones, for he would go 
 vigorously wrong if it were not for the native integ 
 rity which keeps him vigorously right. He has his 
 work to do, and will do it manfully when he gets 
 through the storm and stress period of which I 
 told you." 
 
 " I like it because I think I am in a little period of 
 my own. If I dared, I should like to ask you how 
 best to get out of it." 
 
 " You may ask anything of me ! " 
 
 Sylvia spoke hesitatingly, but Moor s eager answer 
 made it easy to go on, it was so clear that these con 
 fidences were acceptable ; she little knew how much 
 so. 
 
 " Do you believe in sudden conversions ? " she 
 asked presently. 
 
 " Yes ; for often what seems sudden is only the flow 
 ering of some secret growth, unsuspected till the heat 
 of pain or passion calls it out. We feel the need of 
 help that nothing human can give us, instinctively 
 ask it of a higher power, and, receiving it in marvel 
 lous ways, gratefully and devoutly say, I believe. " 
 
 " That time has not come to me." Then, as if a 
 wave of feeling too strong to be repressed rolled up 
 and broke into words, Sylvia rapidly went on : "I 
 know that I need something to lean upon, believe 
 in, and love; for I am not steadfast, and every 
 
152 MOODS. 
 
 wind blows me about. I try to find the help I want. 
 I look into people s faces, watch their lives, and en 
 deavor to imitate all that I admire and respect. I 
 read the best and wisest books I can find, and tire my 
 weak wits trying to understand them. I pray prayers, 
 sing hymns, and go to church, hoping to find the piety 
 which makes life good and happy. I ask all whom I 
 dare to help rne, yet I am not helped. My father 
 says, Keep happy, dear, and no fear but you will get 
 to heaven. Prue says, Eead your Bible and talk to 
 the Bishop. Max laughs, and tells me to fall in love 
 if I desire beatitude. Every one assures me that 
 religion is a blessed thing and salvation impossible 
 without it, yet no one gives me a simple sustaining 
 faith to love, to lean on, and live by. So I stumble 
 to and fro, longing, hoping, looking for the w r ay to go, 
 yet never finding it, for I have no mother to take me 
 in her arms and show me God." 
 
 With the last words Sylvia s voice broke, and she 
 spread her hands before her face ; not weeping, but 
 overcome by an emotion too deep for tears. 
 
 Moor had seen many forms of sorrow, but never 
 one that touched him more than this motherless girl 
 hiding a spiritual sorrow on the bosom of a rock. 
 Sylvia had ceased to seem a child, and this was no 
 childish grief to be comforted with a kind word. She 
 was a woman to him, dearer and deeper-hearted than 
 she knew, yet he would not take advantage of this 
 tender moment and offer her a human love when she 
 asked for the divine. His own religion was that 
 
SERMONS. 153 
 
 simplest, perhaps truest type, which is lived, not 
 spoken ; an inborn love of godliness, a natural faith, 
 unquestioning, unshakable by the trials and tempta 
 tions of life. But this piety, though all pervading and 
 all sustaining as the air, was as hard to grasp and give 
 to another. It was no easy task for one humble in 
 his own conceit, a young man and a lover, to answer 
 such an appeal, the harder for the unspoken confidence 
 in him which it confessed. A wise book lay upon his 
 knee, a good book had slipped to Sylvia s feet, and, 
 glancing about him for inspiration in that eloquent 
 pause, he found it there. Never had his voice sounded 
 so sweet and comfortable as now. 
 
 " Dear Sylvia, I understand your trouble and long 
 to cure it as wisely and tenderly as I ought. I can 
 only tell you where I have found a cure for doubt, 
 despondency, and grief. God and Nature are the true 
 helper and comforter for all of us. Do not tire your 
 self with books, creeds, and speculations; let them 
 wait, and believe that simply wishing and trying to 
 be good is piety, for faith and endeavor are the wings 
 that carry souls to heaven. Take Nature for your 
 friend and teacher. You love and feel near to her al 
 ready ; you will find her always just and genial, patient 
 and wise. Watch the harmonious laws that rule her, 
 imitate her industry, her sweet sanity ; and soon I 
 think you will find that this benignant mother will 
 take you in her arms and show you God." 
 
 Without another word Moor rose, laid his hand an 
 instant on the girl s bent head in the first caress he 
 
154 MOODS. 
 
 had ever dared to give her, and went away leaving her 
 to the soothing ministrations of the comforter he had 
 suggested. 
 
 When they all met at supper Sylvia s face was as 
 serene and lovely as the sky "clear shining after 
 rain," though she said little and seemed shy of her 
 older comrades ; both of whom were unusually 
 thoughtful of her, as if they felt some fear that in 
 handling this young soul they might have harmed it, 
 as even the most careful touch destroys the delicate 
 down on the wing of the butterfly, that is its symbol. 
 
 They embarked at sunset, as the tide against which 
 they had pulled in coming up would soon sweep them 
 rapidly along and make it easy to retrace in a few 
 hours the way they had loitered over for days. 
 
 All night Sylvia lay under the canopy of boughs 
 Moor made to shield her from the dew, listening to 
 the soft sounds about her ; the twitter of a restless 
 bird, the bleat of some belated lamb, the ripple of a 
 brook babbling like a baby in its sleep, the fitful 
 murmur of voices mingling with the plash of water 
 as sail or oar drove them on. All night she watched 
 the changing shores, silvery green or dark with slum 
 berous shadow, and followed the moon in its tranquil 
 journey through the sky. When it set, she drew her 
 cloak about her, and, pillowing her head upon the 
 sweet fern Warwick piled for her, exchanged the 
 waking for a sleeping dream as beautiful and happy. 
 
 A thick mist encompassed her when she awoke. 
 Above the sun shone dimly, below rose and fell the 
 
SERMONS. 155 
 
 unquiet tide, before her sounded the city s hum, and 
 far behind lay the green wilderness where she had 
 lived and learned so much. Slowly the fog lifted, the 
 sun came dazzling down upon the sea, and out into 
 the open bay they sailed with the blue pennon stream 
 ing in the morning wind. But still with backward 
 gaze the girl watched the misty wall that lay between 
 her and that charmed river, and still with wondering 
 heart confessed how sweet that brief experience had 
 been ; for, though she had not yet discovered it, like 
 the fairy Lady of Shalott, 
 
 " She had left the web and left the loom, 
 Had seen the water-lilies bloom, 
 Had seen the helmet and the plume, 
 And had looked down to Camelot." 
 
156 MOODS. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 WHY SYLVIA WAS .HAPPY. 
 
 " T NEVER did understand you, Sylvia ; and this 
 -*- last month you have been a perfect enigma 
 to me." 
 
 With rocking-chair in full action, suspended needle, 
 and thoughtful expression, Miss Yule had watched 
 her sister for ten minutes as she sat with her work at 
 her feet, her hands folded on her lap, and her eyes 
 dreamily fixed on vacancy. 
 
 " I always was to myself, Prue, and am more so 
 than ever now," answered Sylvia, waking out of her 
 reverie with a smile that proved it had been a pleas 
 ant one. 
 
 " There must be some reason _for this great change 
 in you. Come, tell me, dear." 
 
 With a motherly gesture Miss Yule drew the girl 
 to her knee, brushed back the bright hair, and looked 
 into the face so freely turned to hers. Through all 
 the years they had been together, the elder sister had 
 never seen before the expression which the younger s 
 face now wore. A vague expectancy sat in her eyes, 
 some nameless content sweetened her smile, a beau 
 tiful repose replaced the varying enthusiasm, list- 
 lessness, and melancholy that used to haunt her 
 
WHY SYLVIA WAS HAPPY. 157 
 
 countenance and make it such a study. Miss Yule 
 could not read the secret of the change, yet felt its 
 novel charm ; Sylvia could not explain it, though 
 penetrated by its power : and for a moment the sisters 
 looked into each other s faces, wondering why each 
 seemed altered. Then Prue, who never wasted much 
 time in speculations of any kind, shook her head, and 
 repeated, 
 
 " I don t understand it, but it must be right, because 
 you are so improved in every way. Ever since that 
 wild trip up the river you have been growing quiet, 
 lovable, and cheerful, and I really begin to hope that 
 you will become like other people." 
 
 " I only know that I am happy, Prue. Why it is 
 so I cannot tell ; but now I seldom have the old dis 
 satisfied and restless feeling. Everything looks pleas 
 ant to me, every one seems kind, and life begins to be 
 both sweet and earnest. It is only one of my moods, 
 I suppose ; but I am grateful for it, and pray that it 
 may last." 
 
 So earnestly she spoke, so cheerfully she smiled, 
 that Miss Yule blessed the mood and echoed Sylvia s 
 wish, exclaiming in the next breath, with a sudden 
 inspiration, 
 
 " My dear, I ve got it ! You are growing up." 
 
 " I think I am. You tried to make a woman of me 
 at sixteen, but it was impossible until the right time 
 came. That wild trip up the river, as you call it, did 
 more for me than I can ever tell, and when I seemed 
 most like a child I was learning to be a woman." 
 
158 MOODS. 
 
 " Well, my dear, go on as you Ve begun, and I shall 
 be more than satisfied. What merry-making is on 
 foot to-night ? Max and these friends of his keep 
 you in constant motion with their riding, rowing, and 
 rambling excursions, and if it did not agree with you 
 so excellently, I really should like a little quiet alter 
 a month of bustle." 
 
 " They are only coming up as usual, and that re 
 minds me that I must go and dress." 
 
 " There is another new change, Sylvia. You never 
 used to care what you wore or how you looked, no 
 matter how much time and trouble I expended on you 
 and your wardrobe. Now you do care, and it does 
 my heart good to see you always charmingly dressed, 
 and looking your prettiest," said Miss Yule, with the 
 satisfaction of a woman who heartily believed in cos 
 tume as well as all the other elegances and proprie 
 ties of fashionable life. 
 
 " Am I ever that, Prue ? " asked Sylvia, pausing on 
 the threshold with a shy yet wistful glance. 
 
 " Ever what, dear ? " 
 
 " Pretty ? " 
 
 " Always so to me ; and now I think every one 
 finds you very attractive because you try to please, 
 and seem to succeed delightfully." 
 
 Sylvia had never asked that question before, had 
 never seemed to know or care, and could not have 
 chosen a more auspicious moment for her frank in 
 quiry than the present. The answer seemed to satisfy 
 her, and, smiling at some blithe anticipation of her 
 
WHY SYLVIA WAS HAPPY. 159 
 
 own, she went away to make a lampless toilet in the 
 dusk, which proved how slight a hold the feminine 
 passion for making one s self pretty had yet taken 
 upon her. 
 
 The September moon was up and shining clearly 
 over garden, lawn, and sea, when the sound of voices 
 called her down. At the stair-foot she paused with 
 a disappointed air, for only one hat lay on the hall 
 table, and a glance showed her only one guest with 
 Max and Prue. She strolled irresolutely through the 
 breezy hall, looked out at either open door, sung a 
 little to herself, but broke off in the middle of a line, 
 and, as if following a sudden impulse, went out into 
 the mellow moonlight, forgetful of uncovered head or 
 dewy damage to the white hem of her gown. Half 
 way down the avenue she paused before a shady 
 nook, and looked in. The evergreens that enclosed it 
 made the seat doubly dark to eyes inured to the outer 
 light, and, seeing a familiar seeming figure sitting with 
 its head upon its hand, Sylvia leaned in, saying, with 
 a daughterly caress, 
 
 " Why, what is my romantic father doing here ?" 
 
 The sense of touch was quicker than that of sight, 
 aad with an exclamation of surprise she had drawn 
 back before Warwick replied, 
 
 " It is not the old man, but the young one, who is 
 romancing here." 
 
 " I beg your pardon ! We have been waiting for 
 you ; what were you thinking of that you forgot us 
 all?" 
 
160 MOODS. 
 
 Sylvia was a little startled, else she would scarcely 
 have asked so plain a question. But Warwick often 
 asked much blunter ones, always told the naked truth 
 without prevarication or delay, and straightway an 
 swered, 
 
 " The sweetest woman I ever met," then checked 
 himself and said more quietly, as if to turn the con 
 versation, " This moonlight recalls our voyage up the 
 river and our various adventures." 
 
 " Ah, that happy voyage ! I wish it had been 
 longer," answered Sylvia in a tone of such intense re 
 gret it was plain she had forgotten nothing. " It is 
 too lovely to go in just yet ; come and walk, and talk 
 a little of that pleasant time." 
 
 She beckoned as she spoke, and he came out of the 
 shadow wearing a look she had never seen before. 
 His face was flushed, his eye unquiet, his manner 
 eager yet restrained. She had seen him intellectually 
 excited, but never emotionally till now. Something 
 wayward yet warm in this new mood attracted her 
 because so like her own. But with a tact as native 
 as her sympathy, she showed no sign of observing 
 this change, and, fancying some memory or care op 
 pressed him, tried to cheer him by speaking of the 
 holiday he had recalled. 
 
 " What did you enjoy most in those four days ? " 
 she asked, as they paced slowly up the avenue side by 
 side. 
 
 He longed to answer " Our walk together," for that 
 little journey hand in hand seemed very precious to 
 
WHY SYLVIA WAS HAPPY. 161 
 
 him now, and it was with difficulty he refrained from 
 telling her how beautiful it would be to have that 
 slender figure always walking with him on the longer 
 pilgrimage which of late looked lonely and uninvit 
 ing. Bat he folded his arms, averted his eyes, and 
 said briefly, 
 
 " All was pleasant ; perhaps the Golden Wedding 
 most so." 
 
 " Yes, that did me so much good. I never shall 
 forget it. I think that voyage was the happiest time 
 I ever knew. I seemed to learn more in those few 
 days than in years at home, and all my lessons were 
 helpful ones, for which I shall be better and happier, 
 I am sure." 
 
 She spoke earnestly, still looking up, and the moon 
 light showed how grateful, how perilously sweet and 
 candid, the young face was. Warwick saw it with a 
 quick glance, and said within himself, " I too learned 
 a lesson ; better I may be, but not happier." Then 
 aloud, and with a laugh that did not ring quite true, 
 
 " I see my sermon was laid to heart, harsh as it 
 seemed when preached. Some of the melancholy 
 moods were left behind, I think, and brighter ones 
 brought home, if we may judge from the metamor 
 phosis of the dripping Undine I first met to the happy 
 girl who now makes sunshine for us all." 
 
 " Yes ; I feel as if I found my soul there in the 
 woods, and learned how to keep it in better order than 
 when I half longed to have the sea rid me of the care 
 of such a restless, troublesome guest." 
 
 11 
 
162 MOODS. 
 
 " You found a soul, and I lost a heart," thought 
 Warwick, still carrying on that double conversation ; 
 for even love could not subdue the sense of humor 
 which made much sentiment impossible. Aloud he 
 added, more genially, 
 
 " I often make these excursions into the wilderness 
 when civilization tires or troubles me, and always find 
 medicine for my impatient spirit in the quiet, free 
 dom, and good company waiting for me there. Try 
 it again when other things fail, and so keep serene and 
 happy as now." 
 
 " I will. Mr. Moor told me the same, and I like 
 the prescription, for the desire of my life is to be as 
 sunshiny, wise, and excellent as he is." 
 
 " You could not have a better model or set your life 
 to finer music than he does. Have you ever read his 
 poetry ? " 
 
 Warwick spoke heartily now, and seemed glad to 
 slip away from a subject too interesting to be quite 
 safe for him. 
 
 " No. Max said he wrote, and I hope I shall see it 
 some time w r hen he thinks I am worthy of the honor. 
 Do you make poems also ? " asked Sylvia, as if any 
 feat were possible to this new friend of hers. 
 
 " Never ! An essay now and then, but pen work is 
 not in my line. First live, then write. I have not 
 time to let fancy play, when hard facts keep me busy." 
 
 " When you do write, I think it will be very inter 
 esting to read what you have lived. Max says you 
 have been visiting prisons all over the world, and try- 
 
WHY SYLVIA WAS HAPPY. 163 
 
 ing to make them better. That is a brave, good thing 
 to do. I wish I were old and wise enough to help," 
 said Sylvia, with such respect and admiration in face 
 and voice that Warwick found it impossible to re 
 strain a fervent 
 
 " I wish you were ! " adding more calmly, " I love 
 liberty so much myself, that my sympathy naturally 
 turns to those deprived of it. Yet the saddest pris 
 oners I find are not in cells, and they are the hardest 
 to help." 
 
 " You mean those bound by sins and sorrows, tem 
 peraments and temptations ? " 
 
 " Yes, and another class tied by prejudices, creeds, 
 and customs. Even duties and principles make slaves 
 of us sometimes, and we find the captivity very hard 
 to bear." 
 
 " I cannot imagine you bound by anything. I 
 often envy you your splendid freedom." 
 
 " I am bound this moment by honor, and I long to 
 break loose ! " 
 
 The words broke from Adam against his will, and 
 startled Sylvia by their passionate energy. 
 
 " Can I help you ? The mouse helped the lion, you 
 remember ? " 
 
 She spoke without fear, for with Warwick she al 
 ways felt the sort of freedom one feels with those who 
 are entirely sincere and natural, sure of being under 
 stood, and one s sympathy received as frankly as it is 
 offered. 
 
 " Dear mouse, you cannot I This net is too strong, 
 
164 MOODS. 
 
 and the lion must stay bound till time or a happy for 
 tune sets him free. Let us go in." 
 
 The sudden change from the almost tender grati 
 tude of the first words to the stern brevity of the last 
 ones perplexed Sylvia more than any of the varying 
 moods she had seen that night, and with a sudden 
 sense of some dangerous electricity in the mental at 
 mosphere, she hastened up the steps before which 
 Warwick had abruptly halted. 
 
 Pausing on the upper stair to gather a day-lily from 
 the urn that stood there, she looked back an instant 
 before she vanished, and he seemed to see again the 
 Juliet he so well remembered leaning to her lover 
 bathed in the magic moonlight of the wood. 
 
 "That did the mischief; till then I thought her a 
 child. The romance of that scene took me unawares, 
 and all that followed helped the sweet poison work. 
 A midsummer night s dream which I shall not soon 
 forget." 
 
 With a long breath of the cool air, an impatient 
 sigh at his own weakness, and a half- angry tug at his 
 brown beard, Warwick went to the drawing-room 
 looking very like the captive lion Sylvia had spoken 
 of. 
 
 She was not there, and he fell upon the first trifling 
 task he found, as if " in work was salvation, in idleness 
 alone perpetual despair." 
 
 Sylvia soon appeared with the basket of Berlin 
 wools she had promised to wind for her sister. 
 
 " What have you been doing to give yourself such 
 
WHY SYLVIA WAS HAPPY. 165 
 
 an uplifted expression?" said Max, as she came 
 in. 
 
 " Feasting my eyes on lovely colors. Does not that 
 look like a folded rainbow ? " she answered, laying her 
 brilliant burden on the table where Warwick sat 
 examining a broken reel, and Pme was absorbed in 
 getting a carriage blanket under way. 
 
 " Come, Sylvia, I shall soon be ready for the first 
 shade," she said, clashing her formidable needles. " Is 
 that past mending, Mr. Warwick ? " 
 
 " Yes, without better tools than a knife, two pins, 
 and a bodkin." 
 
 " Then you must put the skeins on a chair, Sylvia. 
 Try not to tangle them, and spread your handkerchief 
 in your lap, for that maroon shade will stain sadly. 
 Now don t speak to rne, for I must count my stitches." 
 
 Sylvia began to wind the wools with a swift dexter 
 ity as natural to her hands as certain little graces of 
 gesture which made their motions pleasant to watch. 
 Warwick never rummaged work-baskets, gossiped, 
 or paid compliments for want of something to do. If 
 no little task appeared for them, he kept his hands 
 out of mischief, and if nothing occurred to make words 
 agreeable or necessary, he proved that he understood 
 the art of silence, and sat with those vigilant eyes of 
 his fixed upon whatever object attracted them. Just 
 then the object was a bright band slipping round the 
 chair- back, with a rapidity that soon produced a snarl, 
 l5ut no help till patient fingers had smoothed and 
 wound it up. Then, with the look of one who says 
 
166 MOODS. 
 
 to himself, " I will ! " he turned, planted himself 
 squarely before Sylvia, and held out his hands. 
 
 " Here is a reel that will neither tangle nor break 
 your skeins ; will you use it ? " 
 
 " Yes, thank you, and in return I 11 wind your color 
 first." 
 
 " Which is my color ? " 
 
 " This fine scarlet, strong, enduring, and martial, 
 like yourself." 
 
 "You are right." 
 
 " I thought so ; Mr. Moor prefers blue, and I violet." 
 
 " Blue and red make violet," called Max from his 
 corner, catching the word " color," though busy with 
 a sketch for Jessie Hope. 
 
 Moor was with Mr. Yule in his study, Prue men 
 tally wrapped in her blanket, and when Sylvia was 
 drawn into an artistic controversy with her brother, 
 Warwick fell into deep thought. 
 
 He had learned many lessons in his adventurous 
 life, and learned them well, but never the one that 
 now had in truth taken him unaware, roused a pas 
 sion stronger than his own strong will, and in a 
 month taught him the mystery and the might of love. 
 
 He tried to disbelieve and silence it ; attacked it 
 with reason, starved it with neglect, and chilled it 
 with contempt. But when he fancied it was dead, 
 the longing rose again, and, with a clamorous cry, un 
 did his work. For the first time this free spirit felt 
 the master s hand, confessed a need its own power 
 could not supply, and saw that no man can live alone, 
 
WHY SYLVIA WAS HAPPY. 167 
 
 on even the highest aspirations, without suffering for 
 the vital warmth of the affections. A month ago he 
 would have disdained the sentiment that now was so 
 dear to him. But imperceptibly the influences of do 
 mestic life had tamed and won him. Solitude looked 
 barren, vagrancy had lost its charm ; his life seemed 
 cold and bare, for, though devoted to noble aims, it 
 was wanting in the social sacrifices, cares, and joys 
 that foster charity and sweeten character. An impet 
 uous desire to enjoy the rich experience which did so 
 much for others came over him to-night as it had 
 often done while sharing the delights of this home, 
 where he had made so long a pause. But with the 
 desire came a memory that restrained him better than 
 his promise. He saw what others had not yet dis 
 covered, and, obeying the code of honor which governs 
 the true gentleman, loved his friend better than him 
 self, and held his peace. 
 
 The last skein came, and as she wound it, Sylvia s 
 glance involuntarily rose from the strong hands to the 
 face above them, and lingered there, for the penetrat 
 ing gaze was averted, and an unwonted mildness in 
 spired confidence as its usual expression of power 
 commanded respect. His silence troubled her, and 
 with curious yet respectful scrutiny, she studied his 
 face as she had never done before. She found it full 
 of a noble gravity and kindliness ; candor and courage 
 spoke in the lines of the mouth, benevolence and 
 intellect in the broad arch of the forehead, ardor and 
 energy in the fire of the eye, and on every lineament 
 
168 MOODS. 
 
 the stamp of that genuine manhood which no art can 
 counterfeit. Intent upon discovering the secret of the 
 mastery he exerted over all who approached him, 
 Sylvia had quite forgotten herself, when suddenly 
 Warwick s eyes were fixed full upon her own. What 
 spell lay in them she could not tell, for human eye 
 had never shed such sudden summer over her. Ad 
 miration was not in it, for it did not agitate ; nor 
 audacity, for it did not abash ; but something that 
 thrilled warm through blood and nerves, that tilled 
 her with a glad submission to some power, absolute 
 yet tender, and caused her to turn her innocent face 
 freely to his gaze, letting him read therein a sentiment 
 for which she had not yet found a name. 
 
 It lasted but a moment ; yet in that moment each 
 saw the other s heart, and each turned a new page in 
 the romance of their lives. Sylvia s eyes fell first, 
 but no blush followed, no sign of anger or perplexity, 
 only a thoughtful silence, which continued till the 
 last violet thread dropped from his hands, and she 
 said almost regretfully, 
 
 " This is the end." 
 
 " Yes, this is the end." 
 
 As he echoed the words Warwick rose suddenly 
 and went to talk with Max, whose sketch was done. 
 Sylvia sat a moment as if quite forgetful where she 
 was, so absorbing was some thought or emotion. 
 Presently she seemed to glow and kindle with an 
 inward fire ; over face and forehead rushed an impet 
 uous color, her eyes shone, and her lips trembled with 
 
WHY SYLVIA WAS HAPPY. 169 
 
 the fluttering of her breath. Then a panic appeared 
 to seize her, for, stealing noiselessly away, she hurried 
 to her room, and covering up her face as if to hide 
 it even from herself, whispered to that full heart of 
 hers, 
 
 " Now I know why I am happy ! " 
 
 How long she lay there musing in the moonlight 
 she never knew. Her sister s call broke in upon the 
 first love dream she had ever woven for herself, and 
 she went down to bid the friends good-night. The 
 hall was only lighted by the moon, and in the dim 
 ness no one saw traces of that midsummer shower on 
 her cheeks, nor detected the soft trouble in her eyes, 
 but for the first time Moor felt her hand tremble in 
 his own, and welcomed the good omen joyfully. 
 
 Hating all forms, Warwick seldom shook hands, but 
 that night he gave a hand to all with his most cordial 
 expression, and Sylvia felt both her own taken in 
 a warm lingering grasp, although he only said, 
 " Good-by ! " Then they went ; but while the others 
 paused on the steps, held by the beauty of the night, 
 back on the wings of the wind came Warwick s 
 sonorous voice singing the song that Sylvia best 
 loved. All down the avenue and far along the wind 
 ing road they traced his progress, till the music died 
 in the distance, leaving only the echo of the song to 
 link them to the singer. 
 
 When evening came again the girl waited on the 
 lawn to greet the friends, for love made her very shy. 
 But Moor came alone, and his first words were, 
 
170 MOODS. 
 
 " Console me, Sylvia, Adam is gone. He went as 
 unexpectedly as he came, and when I woke this morn 
 ing a note was all the farewell I found." 
 
 Pride kept her from betraying the sharp pang this 
 disappointment cost her, and all that evening she 
 seemed her gayest self, supported by an unnatural 
 excitement till alone. 
 
 Then the reaction came, and Sylvia spent the night 
 struggling with doubt, despair, shame, and bewilder 
 ment. She had deceived herself. It was not love 
 she saw in Adam s eyes last night, but pity. He read 
 her secret before that compassionate glance revealed 
 it to herself, and had gone away to spare her further 
 folly. She was not the woman of whom he thought, 
 forgetful of time and place, of whom he spoke with 
 such a kindling face, to whom he had gone so eagerly 
 when absence grew unbearable. 
 
 All night she tortured herself with this idea, but in 
 the morning hope came, always the first consoler of 
 the young, whispering that she had read that look 
 aright, that some promise bound him which he had 
 gone to be released from, and when free he would 
 write or come to her. To this hope she clung, saying 
 to herself, 
 
 " He is so true, I will trust and wait." 
 
 But days grew to weeks, and Warwick neither 
 wrote nor came. 
 
NO. 171 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 NO. 
 
 "ATOVEMBEK, the dreariest month of all the year, 
 -^-^ had come ; leaves lay sear and sodden on the 
 frosty ground, and a chill rain dripped without as if 
 joining in the lamentation of the melancholy wind. 
 
 Winter fires were kindled, and basking in the full 
 glow of one of these lay Sylvia, coiled up in a deep 
 chair, solacing her weariness with recollections of the 
 happiest summer of her life. 
 
 As books open at pages oftenest read, she had been 
 reliving that memorable voyage, the brightest hours 
 of which were those spent with Warwick, guarding 
 these as tenderly as patient Elaine guarded the shield, 
 waiting for Launcelot to come again. 
 
 So vividly did those days return to her, that Sylvia 
 forgot the pain of suspense, the thorn of regret, and 
 was far away ; so strong was the power of Adam s in 
 fluence upon her even in absence, that he seemed to 
 be before her ; so intense was her longing to feel again 
 the touch of his hand, that like one in a dream she 
 stretched her own toward the vision, whispering, half 
 aloud, 
 
 " Come ! " 
 
 " I am here." 
 
172 MOODS. 
 
 A voice answered, a hand took hers, and starting 
 up she saw Moor looking down at her. Hastening to 
 compose herself, she smiled and leaned back in her 
 chair, saying quietly, 
 
 " I am glad you came, for I have built castles in 
 the air long enough, and you will give me more sub 
 stantial entertainment, as you always do." 
 
 The broken dream had left tokens of its presence 
 in the unwonted warmth of Sylvia s manner; Moor 
 felt it, and for a moment did not answer. Much of 
 her former shyness had crept over her of late ; she 
 sometimes shunned him, was less free in conversation, 
 less frank in demonstration, and once or twice had col 
 ored deeply as she caught his eye upon her. These 
 betrayals of Warwick s image in her thoughts seemed 
 to Moor the happy omens he had waited eagerly to 
 see, and each day his hope grew more assured. He 
 had watched her unseen while she was busied with 
 her mental pastime, and as he looked, his heart had 
 grown unspeakably tender, for never had her power 
 over him been so fully felt, and never had he so longed 
 to claim her in the name of his exceeding love. A 
 pleasant peace reigned through the house, the girl sat 
 waiting at his side, the moment looked auspicious, 
 the desire grew irresistible, and he yielded to it. 
 
 " You are thinking of something new and pleasant 
 to tell me, I hope, something in keeping with this 
 quiet place and hour ? " said Sylvia, glancing up at 
 him with the traitorous softness still in her eyes. 
 
 " Yes, and hoping you would like it." 
 
NO. 173 
 
 " Then I have never heard it before ? " 
 
 " Never from me." 
 
 " Go on, please ; I am ready." 
 
 She folded her hands together on her knee, turned 
 her face attentively to his, and unwittingly composed 
 herself to listen to the sweet story so often told, and 
 yet so hard to tell. Moor meant to woo her very 
 gently, for he believed that love was new to her. He 
 had planned many graceful illustrations for his tale, 
 and rounded many smoothly flowing sentences in 
 which to unfold it. But the emotions are not \v 7 ell 
 bred, and when the moment came, nature conquered 
 art. No demonstration seemed beautiful enough to 
 grace the betrayal of his passion, no language elo 
 quent enough to tell it, no power strong enough to 
 hold in check the impulse that mastered him. He 
 went to her, knelt down upon the cushion at her feet, 
 and, lifting to her a face flushed and fervent with the 
 ardor of a man s first love, said impetuously, 
 
 " Sylvia, read it here ! " 
 
 There was no need for her to look ; act, touch, and 
 tone told the story better than the most impassioned 
 speech. The supplication of his attitude, the eager 
 beating of his heart, the tender pressure of his hand, 
 dispelled her blindness in the drawing of a breath, 
 and showed her what she had done. Now neglected 
 warnings, selfish forgetfulness, and the knowledge of 
 an unconscious, but irremediable wrens? frightened 
 
 o O 
 
 and bewildered her ; she hid her face, and shrunk 
 back trembling with remorse and shame. Moor, see- 
 
174 MOODS. 
 
 ing in her agitation only maiden happiness or hesi 
 tancy, accepted and enjoyed a blissful moment while 
 he waited her reply. It was so long in coming that 
 he gently tried to draw her hands away and look into 
 her face, whispering like one scarcely doubtful of 
 assent, 
 
 " You love me, Sylvia ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 Only half audible was the reluctant answer, yet he 
 heard it, smiled at what he fancied a shy falsehood, 
 and said tenderly, 
 
 " Will you let me love you, dear ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 Fainter than before was the one word, but it reached 
 and startled him. Hurriedly he asked, 
 
 " Am I nothing to you but a friend ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 "With a quick gesture he put down her hands and 
 looked at her. Grief, regret, and pity filled her face 
 with trouble, but no love was there. He saw, yet 
 would not believe the truth, felt that the sweet cer 
 tainty of love had gone, yet could not relinquish the 
 fond hope. 
 
 " Sylvia, do you understand me ? " 
 
 " I do, I do ! but I cannot say what you would 
 have me, and I must tell the truth, although it breaks 
 my heart. Geoffrey, I do not love you." 
 
 " Can I not teach you ? " he pleaded eagerly. 
 
 " I have no desire to learn." 
 
 Softly she spoke, remorseful she looked, but the 
 
NO. 175 
 
 words wounded like a blow. All the glad assurance 
 died, the passionate glow faded, the caress, half ten 
 der, half timid, fell away, and nothing of the happy 
 lover remained in face or figure. He rose slowly as 
 if the heavy disappointment oppressed both soul and 
 body. He fixed on her a glance of mingled incredu 
 lity, reproach, and pain, and said, like, one bent on 
 ending suspense at once, 
 
 " Did you not see that I loved you ? Can you have 
 been trifling with me ? Sylvia, I thought you too 
 simple and sincere for heartless coquetry." 
 
 " I am ! You shall not suspect me of that, though 
 I deserve all other reproaches. I have been very 
 selfish, very blind. I should have remembered that 
 in your great kindness you might like me too well 
 for your own peace. I should have believed Max, 
 and been less candid in my expressions of esteem. 
 But I wanted a friend so much ; I found all I could 
 ask in you ; I thought my youth, my faults, my follies, 
 would make it impossible for you to see in me any 
 thing but a wayward girl, who frankly showed her 
 regard, and was proud of yours. It was one of my 
 sad mistakes ; I see it now ; and now it is too late 
 for anything but penitence. Forgive me if you can ; 
 I ve taken all the pleasure, and left you all the pain." 
 
 Sylvia spoke in a paroxysm of remorseful sorrow. 
 Moor listened with a sinking heart, and when she 
 dropped her face into her hands again, unable to 
 endure the pale expectancy of his, he turned away, 
 saying with an accent of quiet despair, 
 
176 MOODS. 
 
 " Then I have worked and waited all this summer 
 to see iny harvest fail at last. Oh, Sylvia, I so loved, 
 so trusted you ! " 
 
 He leaned his arm on the low chimney-piece, laid 
 down his head upon it and stood silent, trying to 
 forgive. 
 
 It is always a hard moment for any woman, when 
 it demands her bravest sincerity to look into a coun 
 tenance of eager love, and change it to one of bitter 
 disappointment by the utterance of a monosyllable. 
 To Sylvia it was doubly hard ; for now her blindness 
 seemed as incredible as cruel, her past frankness un 
 justifiable, her pleasure selfish, her refusal the black 
 est ingratitude, and her dream of friendship forever 
 marred. In the brief pause that fell, every little 
 service he had rendered her rose freshly in her mem 
 ory ; every hour of real content and genuine worth 
 that he had given her seemed to come back and re 
 proach her ; every look, accent, action, of both happy 
 past and sad present seemed to plead for him. Her 
 conscience cried out against her, her heart overflowed 
 with penitence and pity. She looked at him, longing 
 to say something, do something that should prove her 
 repentance, and assure him of the affection which she 
 felt. As she looked, two great tears fell glittering to 
 the hearth, and lay there such eloquent reproaches, 
 that, had Sylvia s heart been hard and cold as the 
 marble where they shone, it would have melted then. 
 She could not bear it ; she went to him, took in both 
 her own the rejected hand that hung at his side, and, 
 
NO. 177 
 
 feeling that no act could too tenderly express her sor 
 row, lifted it to her lips and kissed it. 
 
 An instant she was permitted to lay her cheek 
 against it as a penitent child mutely imploring pardon 
 might have done. Then it broke from her hold, and, 
 gathering her to himself, Moor looked up, exclaiming 
 with renewed hope, unaltered longing, 
 
 " You do care for me, then ? You give yourself to 
 me in spite of that hard No ? Ah, Sylvia, you are 
 capricious even in your love." 
 
 She could not answer, for if that first No had been 
 hard to utter, this was impossible. It seemed like 
 turning the knife in the wound, to disappoint the 
 hope that had gathered strength from despair, and 
 she could only lay her head down on his breast, weep 
 ing the saddest tears she had ever shed. Still happy 
 in his new delusion, Moor softly stroked the shining 
 hair, smiling so tenderly, so delightedly, that it was 
 well for her she did not see the smile, the words were 
 enough. 
 
 " Dear Sylvia, I have tried so hard to make you 
 love me, how could you help it ? " 
 
 The reason sprung to her lips, but maiden pride 
 and shame withheld it. What could she tell except 
 that she had cherished a passion, based only on a 
 look ? She had deceived herself in her belief that 
 Moor was but a friend ; she had deceived herself in 
 believing Warwick was a lover. She could not own 
 this secret, its betrayal could not alter her reply nor 
 heal Moor s wound, but the thought of Warwick 
 
 12 
 
178 MOODS. 
 
 strengthened her. It always did, as surely as the in 
 fluence of his friend always soothed her, for one was 
 an embodiment of power, the other of tenderness. 
 
 " Geoffrey, let me be true to you and to myself," 
 she said, so earnestly that it gave weight to her 
 broken words. " I cannot be your wife, but I can be 
 your friend forever. Try to believe this, make 
 my task easier by giving up your hope, and oh, be 
 sure that while I live I cannot do enough to show my 
 sorrow for the great wrong I have done you." 
 
 " Must it be so ? I find it very hard to accept the 
 truth and give up the hope that has made my happi 
 ness so long. Let me keep it, Sylvia ; let me wait 
 and work again. I have a firm belief that you will 
 love me yet, because I cleave to you with heart and 
 soul, long for you continually, and think you the one 
 woman of the world." 
 
 " Ah, if it were only possible ! " she sighed. 
 
 " Let me make it so ! In truth, I think I should 
 not labor long. You are so young, dear, you have 
 not learned to know your own heart yet. It was not 
 pity nor penitence alone that brought you here to 
 comfort me. Was it, Sylvia ? " 
 
 " Yes. Had it been love, could I stand as I am 
 now and not show it ? " 
 
 She looked up at him, showed him that though her 
 cheeks were wet there was no rosy dawn of passion 
 there ; though her eyes were as full of affection as of 
 grief, there was no shy avoidance of his own, no drop 
 ping of the lids, lest they should tell too much ; and 
 
NO. 179 
 
 though his arm encircled her, she did not cling to him 
 as loving women cling when they lean on the strength 
 which, touched by love, can both cherish and sustain. 
 That look convinced him better than a flood of words. 
 A long sigh broke from his lips, and, turning from 
 her the eyes that had so wistfully searched and found 
 not, they went wandering drearily hither and thither 
 as if seeking the hope whose loss made life seem 
 desolate. Sylvia saw it, groaned within herself, but 
 still held fast to the hard truth, and tried to make it 
 kinder. 
 
 " Geoffrey, I once heard you say to Max, Friendship 
 is the best college character can graduate from. Be 
 lieve in it, seek for it, and when it comes keep it as 
 sacredly as love. All my life I have wanted a friend, 
 have looked for one, and when he came I welcomed 
 him. May I not keep him, and preserve the friend 
 ship dear and sacred still, although I cannot offer 
 love ? " 
 
 Softly, seriously, she spoke, but the words sounded 
 cold to him ; friendship seemed so poor now, love so 
 rich, he could not leave the blessed sunshine which 
 transfigured the whole earth and sit down in the little 
 circle of a kindly fire without keen regret. 
 
 " I ought to say yes, I will try to do it if nothing 
 easier remains to me. Sylvia, for five years I have 
 longed and waited for a home. Duty forbade it then, 
 because poor Marion had only me to make her sad 
 life happy, and my mother left her to my charge. 
 Now the duty is ended, the old house very empty, my 
 
180 MOODS. 
 
 heart very hungry for affection. You are all in all to 
 me, and I find it so difficult to relinquish my dream 
 that I must be importunate. I have spoken too soon ; 
 you have had no time to think, to look into yourself 
 and question your own heart. Go, now, recall what 
 I have said, remember that I will wait for you 
 patiently, and when I leave, an hour hence, come 
 down and give me iny last answer." 
 
 Sylvia was about to speak, but the sound of an 
 approaching step brought over her the shyness she 
 had not felt before, and without a word she darted 
 from the room. Then romance also fled, for Prue 
 came bustling in, and Moor was called to talk of in 
 fluenzas, while his thoughts were full of love. 
 
 Alone in her chamber Sylvia searched herself. She 
 pictured the life that would be hers with Moor. The 
 old house so full of something better than its opulence, 
 an atmosphere of genial tranquillity which made it 
 home-like to whoever crossed its threshold. Herself 
 the daily companion and dear wife of the master who 
 diffused such sunshine there, whose serenity soothed 
 her restlessness, whose affection would be as endur 
 ing as his patience, whose character she so truly 
 honored. She felt that no woman need ask a happier 
 home, a truer or more tender lover. But when she 
 looked into herself she found the cordial, unimpas- 
 sioned sentiment he first inspired still unchanged, 
 and her heart answered, 
 
 " This is friendship." 
 
 She thought of Warwick, and the other home that 
 
NO. 181 
 
 might be hers. Fancy painted in glowing colors the 
 stirring, life, the novelty, excitement, and ever new 
 delight such wanderings would have for her. The 
 joy of being always with him ; the proud conscious 
 ness that she was nearest and dearest to such a man ; 
 the certainty that she might share the knowledge of 
 his past, might enjoy his present, help to shape his 
 future. There was no time to look into her heart, for 
 up sprang its warm blood to her cheek, its hope to 
 her eye, its longing to her lips, its answer glad and 
 ready, 
 
 " Ah, this is love ! " She could not wait to prove 
 the .wisdom of either sentiment; impulse ruled her, 
 and the mood of the moment blinded her now as often 
 before. 
 
 The clock struck ten, and after lingering a little 
 Sylvia went down. Slowly, because her errand was 
 a hard one ; thoughtfully, because she knew not where 
 nor how she could best deliver it. No need to look 
 for him or linger for his coming; he was already 
 there. Alone in the hall, absently smoothing a little 
 silken shawl she often wore, and waiting with a mel 
 ancholy patience that smote her to the heart. He 
 went to meet her, took both her hands in his, and 
 looked into her face so tenderly, so wistfully ! 
 
 " Sylvia, is it good-night or good-by ? " 
 
 Her eyes filled, her hands trembled, her color paled, 
 but she answered steadily, 
 
 " Forgive me ! it is good-by." 
 
182 MOODS. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 YES. 
 
 MOOR went away to live down his disappoint 
 ment. The houses by the sea were shut, and 
 the Yules went to town for the winter. No word 
 came from Warwick, and Sylvia ceased to hope. 
 
 It is easy to say, " I will forget," but perhaps the 
 hardest task given us is to lock up a natural yearning 
 of the heart, and turn a deaf ear to its plaint, for cap 
 tive and jailer must inhabit the same small cell. Syl 
 via was proud, with that pride which is both sensi 
 tive and courageous, which can not only suffer, but 
 wring strength from suffering. While she struggled 
 with a grief that aged her with its pain, she asked no 
 help, made no complaint; but when the forbidden 
 passion stretched its arms to her, she thrust it back, 
 and turned to pleasure for oblivion. 
 
 Those who knew her best were troubled and sur 
 prised by the craving for excitement which now took 
 possession of her, the avidity with which she gratified 
 it, regardless of time, health, or money. All day 
 she hurried here and there, driving, shopping, sight 
 seeing, or entertaining guests at home. Night brought 
 no cessation of her dissipation, for when balls, mas 
 querades, and concerts failed, there still remained the 
 
YES. 183 
 
 theatre. This soon became both a refuge and a solace, 
 for, believing it to be less harmful than other excite 
 ments, her father indulged her new whim. But, had 
 he known it, this was the most dangerous pastime 
 she could have chosen. Calling for no exertion of 
 her own, it left her free to passively receive a stim 
 ulant to her unhappy love in watching its mimic 
 semblance through all phases of tragic suffering and 
 sorrow, for she would see no comedies, and Shake 
 speare s tragedies became her study. 
 
 This lasted for a time, then the reaction came. A 
 black melancholy fell upon her, and energy deserted 
 soul and body. She found it a weariness to get up in 
 the morning, and weariness to lie down at night. She 
 no longer cared even to seem cheerful, owned that she 
 was spiritless, hoped she should be ill, and did not 
 care if she died to-morrow. When this dark mood 
 seemed about to become chronic, she began to mend, 
 for youth is wonderfully recuperative, and the deepest 
 wounds soon heal even against the sufferer s will. A 
 quiet apathy replaced the gloom, and she let the tide 
 drift her where it would, hoping nothing, expecting 
 nothing, asking nothing but that she need not suffer 
 any more. 
 
 She lived fast ; all processes with her were rapid ; 
 and the secret experience of that winter taught her 
 many things. She believed it had only taught her to 
 forget, for now the outcast love lay very still, and no 
 longer beat despairingly against the door of her hea.rt, 
 demanding to be taken in from the cold. She fancied 
 
184 MOODS. 
 
 that neglect had killed it, and that its grave was green 
 with many tears. Alas for Sylvia ! how could she 
 know that it had only sobbed itself to sleep, and 
 would wake beautiful and strong at the first sound of 
 its master s voice. 
 
 Max became eventful. In his fitful fashion he had 
 painted a picture of the Golden Wedding, from sketch 
 es taken at the time. Moor had suggested and be 
 spoken it, that the young artist might have a motive 
 for finishing it, because, though he excelled in scenes 
 of that description, he thought them beneath him, and, 
 tempted by more ambitious designs, neglected his 
 true branch of the art. In April it was finished, and 
 at his father s request Max reluctantly sent it with 
 his Clytemriestra to the annual Exhibition. One 
 morning at breakfast, Mr. Yule suddenly laughed out 
 behind his paper, and with a face of unmixed satis 
 faction passed it to his son, pointing to a long cri 
 tique upon the picture. Max prepared himself to 
 receive with becoming modesty the praises lavished 
 upon his great work, but was stricken with amaze 
 ment to find Clytemnestra disposed of in a single 
 sentence, and the Golden Wedding lauded in a long 
 enthusiastic paragraph. 
 
 " What the deuce does the man mean ! " he ejacu 
 lated, staring at his father. 
 
 " He means that the work which warms the heart is 
 greater than that which freezes the blood, I suspect. 
 Moor knew what you could do, and has made you do 
 it, sure that if you worked for fame unconsciously, 
 
YES. 185 
 
 you would win it. This is a success that I can 
 appreciate, and I congratulate you heartily, my son." 
 
 " Thank you, sir. But upon my word I don t un 
 derstand it, and if this was n t written by the best 
 Art critic in the country I should feel inclined to say 
 the writer was a fool. Why, that little thing was a 
 daub compared to the other." 
 
 He got no farther in his protest against this unex 
 pected freak of fortune, for Sylvia seized the paper 
 and read the paragraph aloud with such happy em 
 phasis amid Prue s outcries and his father s applause, 
 that Max began to feel that he really had done some 
 thing praiseworthy, and that the " daub " was not so 
 despicable after all. 
 
 " I m going to look at it from this new point of 
 sight," was his sole comment as he went away. 
 
 Several hours afterward he appeared to Sylvia as she 
 sat sewing alone, and startled her with the mysterious 
 announcement, 
 
 " I Ve done it ! " 
 
 " Done what ? Have you burnt poor Clytemnes- 
 tra ? " 
 
 " Hang Clytemnestra ! I 11 begin at the beginning 
 and prepare you for the grand finale. I went to the 
 Exhibition, and stared at Father Blake and his family 
 for an hour. Decided that was n t bad, though I still 
 admire the other more. Then people began to come 
 and crowd up, so that I slipped away, for I could n t 
 stand the compliments. Dahlmann, Scott, and all the 
 rest of my tribe were there, and, as true as my name 
 
186 MOODS. 
 
 is Max Yule, every man of them ignored the Greek 
 party and congratulated me upon the success of that 
 confounded Golden Wedding." 
 
 " My dearest boy, I am so proud ! so glad ! What 
 is the matter ? Have you been bitten by a tarantula ?" 
 
 She might well ask, for Max was dancing all over 
 the carpet in a most extraordinary style, and only 
 stopped long enough to throw a little case into Syl 
 via s lap, asking as a whole faceful of smiles broke 
 loose, 
 
 " What does that mean ? " 
 
 She opened it, and a suspicious circlet of diamonds 
 appeared, at sight of which she clapped her hands, 
 and cried out, 
 
 " You re going to ask Jessie to wear it ! " 
 
 " I have ! I have ! " sang Max, dancing more wildly 
 than ever. Sylvia chased him into a corner and held 
 him there, almost as much excited as he, while she 
 demanded a full explanation, which he gave her, 
 laughing like a boy and blushing like a girl. 
 
 " You have no business to ask, but of course I m 
 dying to tell you. I went from that Painter s Pur 
 gatory, as we call it, to Mr. Hope s, and asked for Miss 
 Jessie. My angel came down ; I told her of my suc 
 cess, and she smiled as never a woman did before ; I 
 added that I d only waited to make myself more 
 worthy of her, by showing that I had talent, as well 
 as love and money to offer her, and she began to cry ; 
 whereat I took her in iny arms and ascended straight 
 into heaven." 
 
YES. 187 
 
 " Please be sober, Max, and tell me all about it. 
 Was she glad ? Did she say she would ? And is 
 everything as we would have it ? " 
 
 " It is all perfect, divine, and rapturous, to the last 
 decree. Jessie has liked me ever since she was born, 
 
 o 
 
 she thinks ; adores you and Prue for sisters ; yearns 
 to call my parent father ; allowed me to say and do 
 whatever I liked ; and gave me a ravishing kiss just 
 there. Sacred spot ! I shall get a mate to it when I 
 put this on her blessed little finger. Try it for me ; 
 I want it to be right, and your hands are of a size. 
 That fits grandly. When shall I see a joyful sweet 
 heart doing this on his own behalf, Sylvia ? " 
 
 " Never ! " 
 
 She shook off the ring as if it burned her, watching 
 it roll glittering away with a somewhat tragical ex 
 pression. Then she calmed herself, and, sitting down 
 to her work, enjoyed Max s raptures for an hour. 
 
 The happiness this new element brought into the 
 family worked a change in all of them. Mr. Yule 
 was proud of his son, Prue in a flutter of importance 
 and pleasure at the prospect of a wedding, and Sylvia 
 found it very interesting to watch the lovers, to en 
 joy a little of the sunshine that surrounded them, and 
 to envy the tender regard all felt for them. Eomance 
 was not dead in her, nor the desire to be loved, by 
 those at home at least, since fate denied the heart she 
 coveted. 
 
 Having known Warwick, it was easy to admire 
 courage, strength, and heroism ; having known Moor, 
 
188 MOODS. 
 
 it was impossible not to see and feel the beauty of 
 self-sacrifice ; and, being in a mood both humble arid 
 remorseful, Sylvia longed to combine in herself some 
 touch of the virtues she so respected in the man she 
 loved and the man who loved her. She knew it 
 would fill her family with comfort and gladness if she 
 could love Moor ; it seemed as if entire self-renuncia 
 tion would be following Adam s counsel, and in try 
 ing to make the real lover happy she might forget the 
 imaginary one. 
 
 All through the winter there had come at intervals 
 letters from Moor to Max, and gifts to herself, as if 
 their friend desired to show them that he still thought 
 of them and was glad to show that though his loss 
 was great it had not imbittered the old affection. 
 
 This touched Sylvia, and during the holidays, when 
 all the world feels kindly and akin, she wrote to thank 
 him for the holly that made her Christmas gay, the 
 lovely picture that came -at New Year, and the good 
 wishes which she heartily returned. 
 
 It was April now, and on Sylvia s birthday arrived 
 a basket full of moss in which snowdrops were set as if 
 growing, with a card bearing only, " From your friend 
 G. M." The word " friend " was lightly underscored, 
 as if to assure her that he still cherished the one tie 
 permitted him, and sent the pretty token to lighten 
 his regret that she could give him no tenderer one. 
 
 As she read, warm over Sylvia s sore heart rushed 
 the grateful thought, " He cares for me ! he remembers 
 me ! If he would come back I would try to love him 
 now." 
 
YES. 189 
 
 Did he hear the wordless cry, divine the loneliness 
 that made the young heart ache for love, and corne to 
 profit by this propitious mood ? 
 
 As the city clocks struck nine that night, a man 
 paused before the house and scrutinized each window. 
 Many were alight, but on the drawn curtain of one a 
 woman s shadow came and went. He watched it for 
 a moment, then noiselessly went in. The hall was 
 bright and solitary ; from above came the sound of 
 voices ; from a room on the right the stir of papers and 
 the scratch of a pen ; from one on the left a rustle as 
 of silk swept slowly to and fro. To the threshold of 
 this door he stepped and looked in. 
 
 Sylvia was just turning in her walk, and as she 
 came musing down the room, Moor saw her well. 
 With some women dress has no relation to states of 
 mind ; with Sylvia it was often an indication of the 
 mental garb she wore. Moor remembered this trait, 
 and saw in both countenance and costume the change 
 which had befallen her during his long absence. Her 
 face was neither gay nor melancholy, but serious and 
 coldly quiet, as if some inward twilight reigned. Her 
 dress, a soft, sad gray with no decoration but a knot 
 of snowdrops in the bosom. On these pale flowers 
 her eyes were fixed, and as she walked with folded 
 arms and drooping head, she sang low to herself St. 
 Agnes song, 
 
 " Upon the convent roof the snows 
 
 Lie sparkling to the moon ; 
 My breath to heaven like incense goes, 
 May my soul follow soon. 
 
190 MOODS. 
 
 " Lord, make my spirit pure and clear 
 
 As are the frosty skies, 
 Or this first snowdrop of the year, 
 That in my bosom lies." 
 
 " Sylvia ! " 
 
 Very gentle was the call, but she started as if it 
 were an answer to a wish, looked an instant while 
 light and color flashed into her face, then ran to him, 
 exclaiming joyfully, 
 
 " Oh, Geoffrey ! I am glad ! I am glad ! " 
 
 There could be but one reply to such a welcome, 
 and Sylvia received it as she stood there, not weeping 
 now, but smiling with the sincerest satisfaction, the 
 happiest surprise. Moor shared both emotions, feel 
 ing as a man might feel when, parched with thirst, he 
 stretches out his hand for a drop of rain, and receives 
 a brimming cup of water. He drank a deep draught 
 gratefully, then, fearing that it might be as suddenly 
 withdrawn, asked anxiously, 
 
 " Sylvia, are we friends or lovers ? " 
 
 " Anything, if you will only stay." 
 
 She looked up as she spoke, and her face betrayed 
 that a conflict between desire and doubt was going on 
 within her. Impulse had sent her there, and now it 
 was so sweet to know herself beloved, she found it 
 hard to go away. Her brother s happiness had touched 
 her heart, roused the old craving for affection, and 
 brought a strong desire to fill the aching void her lost 
 love had left with this recovered one. She had not 
 learned to reason yet, she could only feel, because, 
 owing to the unequal development of her divided 
 
YES. 191 
 
 nature, the heart grew faster than the intellect. In 
 stinct was her surest guide, and when she followed it, 
 unblinded by a passion, urithwarted by a mood, she 
 prospered. But now she was so blinded and so 
 thwarted, and now her great temptation came. Am 
 bition, man s idol, had tempted the father; love, wo 
 man s god, tempted the daughter ; and, as if the 
 father s atonement was to be wrought out through his 
 dearest child, the daughter also made the false step 
 that might be as fatal as his own. 
 
 " Then you have learned to love me, Sylvia ? " 
 " No ; the old feeling has not changed except to grow 
 more remorseful, more eager to prove its truth. Once 
 you asked me if I did not wish to love you ; then I 
 did not, now I sincerely do. If you still want me 
 with my many faults, and will teach me in your gen 
 tle way to be all I should to you, I will gladly learn, 
 because I never needed love as I do now. Geoffrey, 
 shall I stay or go ? " 
 
 " Stay, Sylvia. Thank God for this ! " 
 If she had ever hoped that Moor would forget her 
 for his own sake, she now saw how vain such hope 
 would have been, and was both touched and troubled 
 by the knowledge of her supremacy which that hour 
 gave her. She was as much the calmer as friendship 
 is than love, and was the first to speak again, still 
 standing there content although her words expressed 
 a doubt. 
 
 " Are you very sure you want me ? Are you not 
 tired of the thorn that has fretted you so long ? Ee- 
 
192 MOODS. 
 
 member, I am so young, so ignorant, and unfitted for 
 a wife. Can I give you real happiness ? make home 
 what you would have it ? and never see in your face 
 regret that some wiser, better woman was not in my 
 place ? " 
 
 " I am sure of myself, and satisfied with you, as you 
 are, no wiser, no better, nothing but my Sylvia." 
 
 " It is very sweet to hear you say that with such a 
 look. I do not deserve it, but I will. Is the pain I 
 once gave you gone now, Geoffrey ? " 
 
 " Gone forever." 
 
 " Then I am satisfied, and will begin my life anew 
 by trying to learn well the lesson my kind master is 
 to teach me." 
 
 When Moor went that night Sylvia followed him, 
 and as they stood together, this happy moment seemed 
 to recall that other bitter one, for, taking her hands 
 again, he asked, smiling now, 
 
 " Dear, is it good-night or good-by ? " 
 
 " It is good-night, and corue to-morrow." 
 
WOOING. 193 
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 WOOING. 
 
 could have been more unlike than the 
 two pairs of lovers who from April to August 
 haunted Mr. Yule s house. One pair was of the pop 
 ular order, for Max was tenderly tyrannical, Jessie 
 adoringly submissive, and at all hours of the day they 
 were to be seen making tableaux of themselves. The 
 other pair were of the peculiar order, undemonstrative 
 and unsentimental, but quite as happy. Moor knew 
 his power, but used it generously, asking little while 
 giving much. Sylvia as yet found nothing to regret, 
 for so gently was she taught, the lesson could not 
 seem hard, and when her affection remained unchanged 
 in kind, although it deepened in degree, she said 
 within herself, 
 
 "That strong arid sudden passion was not true 
 love, but an unwise, unhappy delusion of my own. I 
 should be glad that it is gone, because I know I am not 
 fit to be Warwick s wife. This quiet feeling which 
 Geoffrey inspires must be a safer love for me, and I 
 should be grateful that in making his happiness I may 
 yet find my own." 
 
 She tried heartily to forget herself in others, uncon 
 scious that there are times when the duty we owe 
 
 13 
 
194 MOODS. 
 
 ourselves is greater than that we owe to them. In 
 the atmosphere of cheerfulness that now surrounded 
 her she could not but be cheerful, and soon it would 
 have been difficult to find a more harmonious house 
 hold than this. One little cloud alone remained to 
 mar the general sunshine. Max was in a frenzy to 
 be married and had set his heart on a double wedding, 
 but Sylvia would not fix a time, always pleading, 
 
 " Let me be quite sure of myself before I take this 
 step, and do not wait." 
 
 Matters stood thus till Max, having prepared his 
 honeymoon cottage between his father s house and the 
 Manse, as a relief to his impatience, found it so irre 
 sistible that he announced his marriage for the first 
 of August, and declared no human power should 
 change his purpose. Sylvia promised to think of it, 
 but would give no decided answer, because, though 
 she hardly owned it to herself, she longed to hear 
 some news of Warwick before it was too late. 
 
 Max and Jessie came in from the city one warm 
 morning and found Sylvia sitting idly in the breezy 
 hall. She left all her preparations to Prue, who rev 
 elled in such affairs, and applied herself diligently to 
 her new lesson as if afraid she might not learn it as 
 well as she ought. Half-way up stairs Max paused 
 to say, 
 
 " You remember Warwick, Sylvia." 
 
 "Yes." And if the hall had not been so dark, her 
 brother might have seen the flush of mingled pain and 
 joy that came to Sylvia s listless face. 
 
WOOING. 195 
 
 " Well, I met a friend from England to-day who 
 told me he came across old Adam, who was preparing 
 to join one of the Polar expeditions. Isn t that just 
 like him ? " And Max went on with a laugh. 
 
 As if chilled by a breath from that icy region, Syl 
 via s last half-unconscious hope died then, and she 
 gave herself with entire abandon to the happiness of 
 others. 
 
 Moor had written to his friend when his suit failed, 
 but the letter was still following Warwick in his wan 
 derings, and, receiving no reply, Moor waited to hear 
 some tidings of him before he wrote again to tell his 
 happy news ; while Adam, finding time and absence 
 fail to lessen his love, seemed to have decided to go 
 to the ends of the earth and cool his passion among 
 the icebergs. 
 
 Max went on to consult Prue about his wedding 
 gloves, and Jessie began to display her purchases be 
 fore eyes that only saw a blur of shapes and colors. 
 
 " I should enjoy my pretty things a thousand times 
 more if you would only please us all by being married 
 when we are," sighed Jessie, looking at her veil. 
 
 " I will." 
 
 " What, really ? Sylvia, you are a perfect darling ! 
 Max ! Prue ! she says she will ! " 
 
 Away flew Jessie to proclaim the glad news, and 
 Sylvia, with a curious expression of relief and re 
 solve, repeated to herself that decided " I will." 
 
 All took care that Miss Caprice should not have 
 time to change her mind. The whole house was soorf 
 
196 MOODS. 
 
 in a bustle, for Prue ruled supreme. Mr. Yule fled 
 from the din of women s tongues ; the bridegrooms 
 elect were kept on a very short allowance of bride, 
 and Sylvia and Jessie were almost invisible, for mil 
 liners and mantua-makers swarmed about them till 
 they felt like animated pin-cushions. 
 
 The last evening came at length, and weary Sylvia 
 was just planning to escape into the garden, when 
 Prue, whose tongue wagged as rapidly as her hands 
 worked, exclaimed incoherently as usual, 
 
 " How can you stand staring out of window when 
 there is so much to do ? Here are all these trunks 
 to pack, Maria in bed with a frightful toothache, and 
 that capable Jane What s-her-name gone off while 
 I was putting a chamomile poultice on her face. If 
 you are tired sit down and try on all your shoes, for 
 though Mr. Peggit has your measure, those absurd 
 clerks seem to think it a compliment to send chil 
 dren s sizes to grown women. I m sure niy rubbers 
 were a perfect insult." 
 
 Sylvia sat down, tugged on one boot and fell into a 
 reverie with the other in her hand, while Prue clacked 
 on like a wordmill in full operation. 
 
 " How I m ever to get all these gowns into that 
 trunk passes my comprehension. There s a tray for 
 each, of course ; but a ball dress is such a fractious 
 thing. I could shake that Antoinette Koche for dis 
 appointing you at the last minute ; and what you are 
 to do for a maid, I don t know. You 11 have so much 
 dressing to do you will be quite worn out ; and I 
 
WOOING. 197 
 
 want you to look your best on all occasions, for you 
 will meet everybody. This collar won t wear well ; 
 Clara has n t a particle of judgment, though her taste 
 is sweet. These hose, now, are a good, firm article ; 
 I chose them myself. Do be sure you get all your 
 things from the wash. At those great hotels there s 
 a deal of pilfering, and you are so careless." 
 
 Here Sylvia came out of her reverie with a sigh 
 that was almost a groan. 
 
 " Don t they fit ? I knew they would n t ! " said 
 Prue, with an air of triumph. 
 
 "The boots suit me, but the hotels do not; and 
 if it was not ungrateful, after all your trouble, I 
 should like to make a bonfire of this roomful of 
 haberdashery, and walk quietly away to my new 
 home by the light of it." 
 
 As if the bare idea of such an awful proceeding 
 robbed her of all strength, Miss Yule sat suddenly 
 down in the trunk by which she was standing. For 
 tunately it was nearly full, but her appearance was 
 decidedly ludicrous as she sat with the collar in one 
 uplifted hand, the hose in the other, and the ball dress 
 laid over her lap like a fainting lady ; while she said, 
 with imploring solemnity, which changed abruptly 
 from the pathetic to the comic at the end of her 
 speech, 
 
 " Sylvia, if I ever cherished a wish in this world of 
 disappointment, it is that your wedding shall have 
 nothing peculiar about it, because every friend and 
 relation you ye got expects it. Do let me have the 
 
198 MOODS. 
 
 comfort of knowing that every one was surprised and 
 pleased ; for if the expression was elegant (which it 
 isn t, and only suggested by my trials with those 
 dressmakers), I should say I was on pins and needles 
 till it s all over. Bless me ! and so I am, for here are 
 three on the floor and one in my shoe." Prue paused 
 to extract the appropriate figure of speech which she 
 had chosen, and Sylvia said, 
 
 " If we have everything else as you wish it, would 
 you mind if we did n t go the journey ? " 
 
 " Of course I should. Every one goes a wedding 
 trip, it s part of the ceremony ; and if two carriages 
 and two bridal pairs don t leave here to-morrow, 1 
 shall feel as if all my trouble had been thrown 
 away." 
 
 " I 11 go, Prue, 1 11 go ; and you shall be satisfied. 
 But I thought we might go from here in style, and 
 then slip off on some quieter trip. I am so tired I 
 dread the idea of frolicking for a whole month, as 
 Max and Jessie mean to do." 
 
 It was Prue s turn to groan now, and she did so 
 dismally. But Sylvia had never asked a favor in vain, 
 and this was not the moment to refuse to her any 
 thing, so worldly pride yielded to sisterly affection, 
 and Prue said with resignation, as she fell to work 
 more vigorously than ever, because she had wasted 
 five good minutes, 
 
 " Do as you like, dear, you shall not be crossed on 
 your last day at home. Ask Geoffrey, and if you are 
 happy I m satisfied." 
 
WOOING. 199 
 
 Before Sylvia could thank her sister there came a 
 tap and a voice asking, 
 
 " Might I come in ? " 
 
 " If you can get in," answered Prue, as, reversing 
 her plan in her hurry, she whisked the collar into a 
 bag and the hose into a bandbox. 
 
 Moor paused on the threshold in a masculine maze, 
 that one small person could need so much drapery. 
 
 " May I borrow Sylvia for a little while ? A 
 breath of air will do her good, and I want her bright 
 and blooming for to-morrow, else young Mrs. Yule 
 will outshine young Mrs. Moor." 
 
 " What a thoughtful creature you are, Geoffrey ! 
 Take her and welcome, only pray put on a shawl, 
 Sylvia, and don t stay out late, for a bride with a cold 
 in her head is the saddest of spectacles." 
 
 Glad to be released, Sylvia went away, and, drop 
 ping the shawl as soon as she was out of Prue s sight, 
 paced up and down the garden walks upon her lover s 
 arm. Having heard her wish and given a hearty as 
 sent, Moor asked, 
 
 " Where shall we go ? Tell me what you would 
 like best and you shall have it You will not let me 
 give you many gifts, but this pleasure you will accept 
 from me, I know." 
 
 " You give me yourself ; that is more than I deserve. 
 But I should like to have you take me to the place 
 you like best. Don t tell me beforehand, let it be a 
 surprise." 
 
 " I will ; it is already settled, and I know you will 
 
200 MOODS. 
 
 like it. Is there no other wish to be granted, no 
 doubt to be set at rest, or regret withheld that I should 
 know ? Tell me, Sylvia, for if ever there should be 
 confidence between us it is now." 
 
 As he spoke the desire to tell him of her love for 
 Adam rose within her, but with the desire came a 
 thought that modified the form in which impulse 
 prompted her to make confession. Moor was both 
 sensitive and proud ; would not the knowledge of the 
 fact mar for him the friendship that was so much to 
 both ? From Warwick he would never learn it, from 
 her he should have only a half confidence, and so 
 love both friend and wife with an untroubled heart. 
 Few of us can always control the rebellious nature 
 that so often betrays and then reproaches, few always 
 weigh the moment and the act that bans or blesses it, 
 and where is the life that has not known some turn 
 ing-point when a fugitive emotion has decided great 
 issues for good or ill ? Such an emotion came to Syl 
 via then, and another temptation, wearing the guise of 
 generosity, urged her to another false step, for when 
 the first is taken a second inevitably follows. 
 
 " I have no wish, no regret, nothing but the old 
 doubt of my unstable self, and the fear that I may 
 fail to make you happy. But I should like to tell 
 you something. I don t know that you will care for 
 it, or that there is any need to tell it, but when you 
 said there should be confidence between us, I felt 
 that I wanted you to know that I had loved some one 
 before I loved you." 
 
WOOING. 201 
 
 He did not see her face, he only heard her quiet 
 voice. He had no thought of Adam, whom she had 
 known so short a time, who was so indifferent to 
 women, and who always spoke of and treated Sylvia 
 as a child. He fancied that she thought of some 
 young lover who had touched her heart, and while he 
 smiled at the nice sense of honor that prompted the 
 innocent confession, he said, with no coldness, no curi 
 osity in voice or face, 
 
 " No need to tell it, dear. I have no jealousy of any 
 one who has gone before me. Rest assured of this, 
 for if I could not share so large a heart with one who 
 will never claim my share I should not deserve it." 
 
 " That is so like you ! Now I am quite at ease." 
 
 He looked down at her as she went beside him, 
 thinking that of all the brides he had ever seen his 
 own looked least like one. 
 
 " I always thought that you would make a very 
 ardent lover, Sylvia ; that you would be excited, gay, 
 and brilliant at a time like this. But you are so 
 quiet, so absorbed, and so unlike your former self that 
 I begin to think I do not know you yet." 
 
 "You will in time. I am passionate and restless 
 by nature, but I am also very sensitive to all influ 
 ences, personal or otherwise, and were you different 
 from your tranquil, sunshiny self, I too should change. 
 I am quiet because I seem in a pleasant state, half 
 waking, half dreaming, from which I never wish to 
 wake. I am tired of the past, contented with the 
 present, and to you I leave the future." 
 
202 MOODS. 
 
 "It shall be a happy one if I can make it so, and 
 to-morrow you will give me the dear right to try." 
 
 "Yes," she said; and, thinking of the solemn prom 
 ises to be then made, she added thoughtfully, " I 
 think I love, I know I honor, I will try to obey. 
 Can I do more ? " 
 
 Well for them both if they could have known that 
 friendship is Ipve s twin, and the gentle sisters are too 
 often mistaken for each other ; that Sylvia was inno 
 cently deceiving both her lover and herself, by wrap 
 ping her friendship in the garb her lost love had worn, 
 forgetting that the wanderer might return and claim 
 its own, leaving the other to suffer for the borrowed 
 warmth. They did not know it, and walked tran 
 quilly together in the summer night, planning the 
 new life as they went, and when they parted Moor 
 pointed to a young moon hanging in the sky. 
 
 " See, Sylvia, our honeymoon has risen." 
 
 " May it be a happy one ! " 
 
 " It will be, and when the anniversary of this glad 
 night comes round it shall be shining still. God 
 bless my little wife ! " 
 
s 
 
 WEDDING. 203 
 
 CHAPTEE XIII. 
 
 WEDDING. 
 
 YLVIA was awakened on her wedding morning 
 by a curious choking sound, and starting up 
 found Prue crying over her as if her heart were 
 broken. 
 
 "What has happened? Is Geoffrey ill? Is all 
 the silver stolen ? Can t the Bishop come ? " she 
 asked, wondering what calamity could move her sis 
 ter to tears at such a busy time. 
 
 Prue took Sylvia in her arms, and, rocking to and 
 fro as if she was still a baby, poured forth a stream 
 of words and tears together. 
 
 " Nothing has happened ; I came to call you, and 
 broke down because it was the last time I should do 
 it. I ve been awake all night, thinking of you and 
 all you. ve been to me since I took you in my arms 
 eighteen years ago, and said you should be mine. 
 My little Sylvia, I ve been neglectful of so many 
 things, and now I see them all ; I ve fretted you with 
 my ways, and haven t been patient enough with yours ; 
 I ve been selfish even about your wedding, and it 
 won t be as you like it ; you 11 reproach me in your 
 heart, and I shall hate myself for it when you are 
 gone never to be my care and comfort any more. 
 
204 MOODS. 
 
 And oh, my dear, my dear, what shall I do without 
 you ! " 
 
 This unexpected demonstration from her prosaic 
 sister touched Sylvia more than the most sentimental 
 lamentations from another. It brought to mind all 
 the past devotion, the future solitude of Prue s life, and 
 she clung about her neck tearless but very tender. 
 
 " I never shall reproach you, never cease to love 
 and thank you for all you Ve been to me, my dear 
 old Prue. You must n t grieve over me, or think I 
 shall forget you, for you never shall be forsaken ; and 
 very soon I shall be back, almost as much your Sylvia 
 as ever. Max will live on one side, I shall live on the 
 other, and we 11 be merry and cosey together. And 
 who knows but when we are both out of your way you 
 will learn to think of yourself and marry also." 
 
 At this Prue began to laugh hysterically, and ex 
 claimed, with more than her usual incoherency, 
 
 " I must tell you, it was so very odd ! I did n t 
 mean to do so, because you children would tease 
 me ; but now I wish to laugh, for it s a bad omen to 
 cry over a bride, they say. My dear, that gouty Mr. 
 MacGregor, when I went in with some of my nice 
 broth last week (Hugh slops so, and he s sucli a 
 fidget, I took it myself), after he had eaten every 
 drop before my eyes, wiped his mouth and asked 
 me to marry him." 
 
 " And you would not, Prue ? " 
 
 " Bless me, child, how could I ? I must take care 
 of my poor dear father, and he is n t pleasant in the 
 
WEDDING. 205 
 
 least, you know, but would wear my life out in a 
 week. I r.eally pitied him, however, when I refused 
 him, with a napkin round his neck, and he tapped 
 his waistcoat with a spoon so comically, when he of 
 fered me his heart, as if it were something good to 
 eat." 
 
 " How very funny ! What made him do it, Prue ? " 
 
 " He said he d watched the preparations from his 
 window, and got so interested in weddings that he 
 wanted one himself, and felt drawn to me, I was so 
 sympathetic. That means a good nurse and cook, my 
 dear. I understand these invalid gentlemen, and will 
 be a slave to no man so fat and fussy as Mr. Mac, 
 as my brother calls him. It s not respectful, but I 
 like to refresh myself by saying it just now." 
 
 " Never mind the old soul, Prue, but go and have 
 your breakfast comfortably ; for there is much to be 
 done, and no one is to dress me but your own dear 
 self." 
 
 At this Prue relapsed into the pathetic again, and 
 cried over her sister as if, despite the omen, brides 
 were plants that needed much watering. 
 
 The appearance of the afflicted Maria, with her 
 face still partially eclipsed by the chamomile com 
 forter, and an announcement that the waiters had 
 come and were " ordering round dreadful," caused 
 Prue to pocket her handkerchief and descend to turn 
 the tables in every sense of the word. 
 
 The prospect of the wedding breakfast made the 
 usual meal a mere mockery. Every one was in a 
 
206 MOODS. 
 
 driving hurry, every one was very much excited, and 
 nobody but Prue and the colored gentlemen brought 
 anything to pass. Sylvia went from room to room 
 bidding them good-by as the child who had played 
 there so long. But each looked unfamiliar in its state 
 and festival array, and the old house seemed to have 
 forgotten her already. She spent an hour with her 
 father, paid Max a little call in the empty studio 
 where he was bidding adieu to the joys of bachelor 
 hood, and preparing himself for the jars of matrimony 
 by a composing smoke, and then Prue claimed her. 
 
 The agonies she suffered during that long toilet are 
 beyond the powers of language to portray, for Prue 
 surpassed herself and was the very essence of fussi- 
 ness. But Sylvia bore it patiently as a last sacrifice, 
 because her sister was very tender-hearted still, and 
 laughed and cried over her work till all was done, 
 when she surveyed. the effect with pensive satisfaction. 
 
 " You are very sweet, my dear, and so delightfully 
 calm, you really do surprise me. I always thought 
 you d have hysterics on your wedding-day, and got 
 my vinaigrette all ready. Keep your hands just as 
 they are, with the handkerchief and bouquet ; it looks 
 very easy and rich. Dear me, what a spectacle I ve 
 made of myself ! But I shall cry no more, not even 
 during the ceremony, as many do. Such displays of 
 feeling are in very bad taste, and I shall be firm, per 
 fectly firm ; so if you hear any one sniff, you 11 know 
 it is n t me. Now I must go and scramble on my 
 dress ; first, let me arrange you smoothly in a chair. 
 
WEDDING. 207 
 
 There, my precious, now think of soothing things, 
 and don t stir till Geoffrey comes for you." 
 
 Too tired to care what happened just then, Sylvia 
 sat as she was placed, feeling like a fashion-plate of a 
 bride, and wishing she could go to sleep. Presently 
 the sound of steps as fleet as Max s, bat lighter, waked 
 her up, and, forgetting orders, she rustled to the door 
 with an expression which fashion-plates have not yet 
 attained. 
 
 " Good-morning, little bride." 
 
 " Good-morning, bonny bridegroom." 
 
 Then they looked at one another, and both smiled. 
 But they seemed to have changed characters ; for 
 Moor s usually tranquil face was full of pale excite 
 ment, Sylvia s usually vivacious one full of quietude, 
 and her eyes wore the unquestioning content of a 
 child who accepts some friendly hand, sure that it 
 will lead it right. 
 
 " Prue desires me to take you out into the upper 
 hall, and when Mr. Deane beckons, we are to go down 
 at once. The rooms are full, and Jessie is- ready. 
 Shall we go ? " 
 
 " One moment : Geoffrey, are you quite happy 
 now ? " 
 
 " Supremely happy ! " 
 
 " Then it shall be the first duty of my life to keep 
 you so." And with a gesture soft yet solemn, Sylvia 
 laid her hand in his, as if endowing him with both 
 gift and giver. He held it fast, and never let it go 
 until it was his own. 
 
208 MOODS. 
 
 In the upper hall they found Max hovering about 
 Jessie like an agitated bee about a very full-blown 
 flower, and Clara Deane flapping him away, lest he 
 should damage the effect of this beautiful white rose. 
 For ten minutes, ages they seemed, the five stood 
 together listening to the stir below, looking at one 
 another till they were tired of the sight and scent of 
 orange blossoms, and wishing that the whole affair was 
 safely over. But the instant a portentous " Hem ! " 
 was heard, and a white glove seen to beckon from the 
 stair-foot, every one fell into a flutter. Moor turned 
 paler still, and Sylvia felt his heart beat hard against 
 her hand. She herself was seized with a momentary 
 desire to run away and say " No " again. Max looked 
 as if nerving himself for immediate execution, and 
 Jessie feebly whispered, 
 
 " Clara, I m going to faint ! " 
 
 " Good heavens, what shall I do with her ? Max, 
 support her ! My darling girl, smell this and bear up. 
 For mercy sake, do something, Sylvia, and don t stand 
 there looking as if you d been married every day for 
 a year." 
 
 In his excitement, Max gave his bride a little 
 shake. Its effect was marvellous. She rallied in 
 stantly, with a reproachful glance at her crumpled 
 veil and a decided 
 
 " Come quick, I can go now/ 
 
 Down they went, through a wilderness of summer 
 silks, black coats, and bridal gloves. How they 
 reached their places none of them ever knew ; Max 
 
WEDDING. 209 
 
 said afterward, that the instinct of self-preservation 
 led him to the only means of extrication that circum 
 stances allowed. The moment the Bishop opened his 
 book, Prue took out her handkerchief and cried stead 
 ily through the entire ceremony ; for, dear as were the 
 proprieties, the " children " were clearer still. 
 
 At Sylvia s desire, Max was married first, and as 
 she stood listening to the sonorous roll of the service 
 falling from the Bishop s lips, she tried to feel devout 
 and solemn, but failed to do so. She tried to keep 
 her thoughts from wandering, but continually found 
 herself wondering if that sob came from Prue, if her 
 father felt it very much, and when it would be done. 
 She tried to keep her eyes fixed timidly upon the car 
 pet as she had been told to do, but they would rise 
 and glance about against her will. 
 
 One of these derelictions from the path of duty 
 nearly produced a catastrophe. Little Tilly, the 
 gardener s pretty child, had strayed in from among 
 the servants peeping at a long window in the rear, and 
 established herself near the wedding group, looking 
 like a small ballet girl in her full white frock and 
 wreath pushed rakishly askew on her curly pate. 
 As she stood regarding the scene with dignified amaze 
 ment, her eye met Sylvia s. In spite of the unusual 
 costume, the baby knew her playmate, and, running 
 to her, thrust her head under the veil with a delighted 
 " Peep a bo ! " Horror seized Jessie, Max was on the 
 brink of a laugh, and Moor looked like one fallen 
 from the clouds. But Sylvia drew the little marplot 
 
 14 
 
210 MOODS. 
 
 close to her with a warning word, and there she 
 stayed, quietly amusing herself with " pooring " the 
 silvery dress, smelling the flowers, and staring at the 
 Bishop. 
 
 After this, all prospered. The gloves came smooth 
 ly off, the rings went smoothly on ; no one cried but 
 Prue, no one laughed but Tilly ; the brides were ad 
 mired, the grooms envied ; the service pronounced 
 impressive, and when it ended, a tumult of congratu 
 lations arose. 
 
 Sylvia always had a very confused idea of what 
 happened during the next hour. She remembered 
 being kissed till her cheeks burned, and shaken hands 
 with till her fingers tingled ; bowing in answer to 
 toasts, and forgetting to reply when addressed by the 
 new name ; trying to eat and drink, and discovering 
 that everything tasted of wedding cake ; finding her 
 self up stairs hurrying on her travelling dress, then 
 down stairs saying good-by ; and when her father em 
 braced her last of all, suddenly realizing, with a pang, 
 that she was married and going away, never to be 
 little Sylvia any more. 
 
 Prue was gratified to her heart s content, for, when 
 the two bridal carriages had vanished with handker 
 chiefs flying from their windows, in answer to the 
 white whirlwind on the lawn, Mrs. Grundy, with an 
 approving smile on her aristocratic countenance, pro 
 nounced this the most charming affair of the season. 
 
SYLVIA S HONEYMOON. 211 
 
 CHAPTEK XIV. 
 
 SYLVIA S HONEYMOON. 
 
 IT began with a pleasant journey. Day after day 
 they loitered along country roads that led them 
 through many scenes of summer beauty ; pausing at 
 old-fashioned inns and wayside farmhouses, or gypsy- 
 ing at noon in some green nook where their four- 
 footed comrades dined off their table-cloth while they 
 made merry over the less simple fare their last hostess 
 had provided for them. When the scenery was un 
 interesting, as was sometimes the case, for Nature 
 will not disturb her domestic arrangements for any 
 bridal pair, one or the other read aloud, or both 
 sang, while conversation was a never-failing pastime 
 and silence had charms which they could enjoy. 
 Sometimes they walked a mile or two, ran down a 
 hillside, rustled through a grain-field, strolled into an 
 orchard, or feasted from fruitful hedges by the way, 
 as care-free as the squirrels on the wall, or the jolly 
 brown bees lunching at the sign of " The Clover-top." 
 They made friends with sheep in meadows, cows at 
 the brook, travellers morose or bland, farmers full of 
 a sturdy sense that made their chat as wholesome as 
 the mould they delved in ; school-children barefooted 
 and blithe, and specimens of womankind, from the 
 
212 MOODS. 
 
 buxom housewife, who took them under her motherly 
 wing at once, to the sour, snuffy, shoe-binding spin 
 ster with " No Admittance " written all over her face. 
 
 To Moor the world was glorified with the purple 
 light which seldom touches it but once for any of us ; 
 the journey was a wedding march, made beautiful by 
 summer, victorious by joy; his young wife the queen 
 of women, and himself an equal of the gods, because 
 no longer conscious of a want. Sylvia could not be 
 otherwise than happy ; for, finding unbounded liberty 
 and love her portion, she had nothing to regret, and 
 regarded marriage as an agreeable process which had 
 simply changed her name and given her protector, 
 friend, and lover all in one. She was therefore her 
 sweetest and sincerest self, miraculously docile and 
 charmingly gay ; interested in all she saw, and quite 
 overflowing with delight when the last days of the 
 week betrayed the secret that her destination was the 
 mountains. 
 
 Loving the sea so well, her few flights from home 
 had given her only marine experiences, and the flavor 
 .of entire novelty was added to the feast her husband 
 had provided for her. It came to her not only when 
 she could enjoy it most, but when she needed it most, 
 soothing the unquiet, stimulating the nobler, elements 
 which ruled her life by turns, and fitting her for what 
 lay before her. Choosing the quietest roads, Moor 
 showed her the wonders of a region whose wild gran 
 deur and beauty make its memory a lifelong satisfac 
 tion. Day after day they followed mountain paths, 
 
SYLVIA S HONEYMOON. 213 
 
 studying the changes of an ever-varying landscape, 
 watching the flush of dawn redden the granite fronts 
 of these Titans scarred with centuries of storm, the 
 lustre of noon brood over them until they smiled, the 
 evening purple wrap them in its splendor, or moon 
 light touch them with its magic ; till Sylvia, always 
 looking up at that which filled her heart with rever 
 ence and awe, was led to look beyond, and through 
 the medium of the friend beside her, learned that 
 human love brings us nearer to the Divine, and is the 
 surest means to that great end. 
 
 The last week of the honeymoon came all too soon, 
 for then they had promised to return. The crowning 
 glory of the range was left until the last, and after a day 
 of memorable delights Sylvia sat in the sunset feast 
 ing her eyes upon the wonders of a scene which is 
 indescribable, for words have limits and that is appar 
 ently illimitable. Presently Moor came to her, ask 
 ing, - 
 
 " Will you join a party to the great ice palace, and 
 see three acres of snow in August, worn by a water 
 fall into a cathedral, as white if not as durable as any 
 marble ? " 
 
 " I sit so comfortably here I think I had rather not. 
 But you must go, because you like such wonders, and 
 I shall rest till you come back." 
 
 " Then I shall take myself off and leave you to 
 muse over the pleasures of the day, which for a few 
 hours has made you one of the most eminent women 
 this side the Eocky Mountains. There is a bugle at 
 
214 MOODS. 
 
 the house here with which to make the echoes. I 
 shall take it with me, and from time to time send up 
 a sweet reminder that you are not to stray away and 
 lose yourself." 
 
 Sylvia sat for half an hour, then, wearied by the 
 immensity of the wide landscape, she tried to rest her 
 mind by examining the beauties close at hand. Stroll 
 ing down the path the sightseers had taken, she 
 found herself in a rocky basin, scooped in the moun 
 tain side like a cup for a little pool, so clear and bright 
 it looked a diamond set in jet. A fringe of scanty 
 herbage had collected about its brim, russet mosses, 
 purple heath, and delicate white flowers, like a band 
 of tiny hill-people keeping their revels by some fairy 
 well The spot attracted her, and, remembering that 
 she was not to stray away, she sat down beside the 
 path to wait for her husband s return. 
 
 In the act of bending over the pool to sprinkle the 
 thirsty little company about it, her hand was arrested 
 by the tramp of approaching feet, and, looking up to 
 discover who was the disturber of her retreat, she saw 
 a man pausing at the top of the path opposite to that 
 by which she had come. He seemed scrutinizing the 
 solitary occupant of the dell before descending ; but 
 as she turned her face to him he flung away knapsack, 
 hat, and staff, and then with a great start she saw no 
 stranger, but Adam Warwick. Coming down to her 
 so joyfully, so impetuously, she had only time to rec 
 ognize him, and cry out, when she was swept up in 
 an embrace as tender as irresistible, and lay there 
 
SYLVIA S HONEYMOON. 215 
 
 conscious of nothing, but that happiness, like some 
 strong swift angel, had wrapt her away into the prom 
 ised land so long believed in, hungered for, and de 
 spaired of, as forever lost. Soon she heard his voice, 
 breathless, eager, but so fond it seemed another voice 
 than his. 
 
 " My darling ! did you think I should never come ? " 
 
 " I thought you had forgotten me. Adam, put me 
 down." 
 
 But he only held her closer, and laughed such a 
 happy laugh that Sylvia felt the truth before he ut 
 tered it. 
 
 " How could I forget you even if I had never come 
 to tell you this ? Sylvia, I know much that has 
 passed. Geoffrey s failure gave me courage to hope 
 for success, and that the mute betrothal made with a 
 look so long ago had been to you all it has been to 
 me." 
 
 " Adam, you are both right and wrong, you do 
 not know all, let rne tell you," began Sylvia, as 
 these proofs of ignorance brought her to herself with 
 a shock of recollection and dismay. But Warwick 
 was as absolute in his happiness as he had been in his 
 self-denial, and took possession of her mentally as 
 well as physically with a despotism too welcome and 
 entire to be at once resisted. 
 
 " You shall tell me nothing till I have shown the 
 cause of my hard-seeming silence, I must throw off 
 that burden first, then I will listen to you until morn 
 ing if you will. I have earned this moment by a 
 
216 MOODS. 
 
 year of patience ; let me keep you here and enjoy it 
 without alloy." 
 
 The old charm had lost none of its power, for 
 absence seemed to have gifted it with redoubled 
 potency, the confirmation of that early hope to grace 
 it with redoubled warmth. Sylvia let him keep her 
 close beside him, feeling that he had earned that small 
 reward for a year s endeavor, resolving to grant all now 
 left her to bestow, a few moments more of blissful ig 
 norance, then to show him his loss and comfort him, 
 sure that her husband would find no disloyalty in a 
 compassion scarcely less deep and self-forgetful than 
 his own would have been had he shared their secret. 
 Only pausing to put off her hat and turn her face to 
 his, regarding it with such unfeigned and entire con 
 tent that she forgot everything but the rapid words 
 she listened to, the countenance she watched, so beau 
 tifully changed and softened that it seemed as if she 
 had never seen or known the man before. 
 
 " The night we walked together by the river such 
 a wilful yet winning comrade as I had that day, and 
 how I enjoyed it all ! that night I suspected that 
 Geoffrey loved you, Sylvia, and was glad to think it. 
 A month later I was sure of it, and found in that 
 knowledge the great hardship of my life, because I 
 loved you myself. * Audacious thing ! how dared you 
 steal into my heart and take possession when I had 
 barred the door to love ? You never seemed a child 
 to me, Sylvia, because you have an old soul in a young 
 body, and your father s trials and temptations live 
 
SYLVIA S HONEYMOON. 217 
 
 again in you. This first attracted me. I liked to 
 watch, to question, to study the human enigma to 
 which I had found a clew from its maker s lips. I 
 liked your candor and simplicity, your courage and 
 caprice. Even your faults found favor in my eyes; 
 for pride, will, impetuosity, were old friends of mine, 
 and I liked to see them working in another shape. 
 At first you were a curiosity, then an amusement, then 
 a necessity. I wanted you, not occasionally, but con 
 stantly. You put salt and savor into life for me ; for 
 whether you spoke or were silent, were sweet or sour, 
 friendly or cold, I was satisfied to feel your nearness, 
 and always took away an inward content which noth 
 ing else could give me. This affection was so unlike 
 what I had fancied love to be that I deceived myself 
 fora time not long. I soon knew what had be 
 fallen me, soon felt that this sentiment was good to feel, 
 because I forgot my turbulent and worser self and felt 
 the nobler regenerated by the innocent companionship 
 you gave me. I wanted you, but it was not the touch 
 of hands or lips, the soft encounter of eyes, the tones 
 of tenderness, I wanted most. It was that something 
 beyond my reach, vital and vestal, invisible, yet irre 
 sistible ; that something, be it heart, soul, or mind, 
 which drew me to you by an attraction genial and 
 genuine as itself. My Sylvia, that was love, and when 
 it came to me I took it in, sure that whether its frui 
 tion was granted or denied I should be a manlier man 
 for having harbored it even for an hour. Why turn 
 your face away ? Well, hide it if you will, but listen, 
 for I have much to say." 
 
218 MOODS. 
 
 Still silent, Sylvia listened, as she would have done 
 to one about to die. 
 
 " On that September evening, as I sat alone, I had 
 been thinking of what might be and what must be. 
 Had decided that I would go away for Geoffrey s 
 sake. He was fitter than I to have you, being so 
 gentle, and in all ways ready to possess a wife. I 
 was so rough, such a vagrant, so full of my own pur 
 poses and plans, how could I dare to take into my 
 keeping such a tender little creature as yourself ? I 
 thought you did not care for me ; I knew any knowl 
 edge of my love would only mar his own ; so it was 
 best to go at once and leave him to the happiness he 
 so well deserved. Just then you came to me, as if 
 the wind had blown my desire to my arms. Such a 
 loving touch that was ! it nearly melted my resolve, 
 and made it very hard not to take the one thing I 
 wanted when it came to me so opportunely. You 
 could not understand my trouble, and when I sat be 
 fore you so still, perhaps looking grim and cold, you 
 did not know how I was wrestling with my unruly 
 self. I am riot truly generous, for the relinquishment 
 of any cherished object always costs a battle, and 
 I too often find I am worsted. For the first time I 
 dared not meet your eyes till you dived into mine 
 with that expression wistful and guileless, which has 
 often made me feel as if we stood divested of our 
 bodies, soul to soul. 
 
 " Tongue I could control, heart I could not. Up 
 it sprung, stronger than will, swifter than thought, 
 
SYLVIA S HONEYMOON. 219 
 
 and answered you. Sylvia, had there been one ray 
 of self-consciousness in those steady eyes of yours, 
 one atom of maiden shame, or fear, or trouble, I should 
 have claimed you as my own. There was not ; and 
 though you let me read your face like an open book, 
 you never dreamed what eloquence was in it. Inno 
 cent heart, that loved and had not learned to know 
 it ! I saw this instantly, saw that a few more such 
 encounters would show it to you likewise, and felt 
 more strongly than before that if ever the just deed 
 to you, the generous one to Geoffrey, were done, it 
 should be then. For that was the one moment when 
 your half-awakened heart could fall painlessly asleep 
 again, if I did not disturb it, and dream on till 
 Geoffrey woke it, to find a gentler master than I could 
 be to it." 
 
 " It could not, Adam ; you had wholly roused it, 
 and it cried for you so long, so bitterly, oh, why did 
 you not come to answer it before ? " 
 
 " How could I till I heard that Geoffrey had failed ? 
 He told me he should labor long and wait patiently 
 till he won you, and I could not doubt that he would 
 succeed. I went away singing the farewell I dared 
 not speak, and for a year have kept myself hard at 
 work. If ever labor of mine is blessed it will be 
 that, for into it I put the heartiest endeavor of my 
 life. 
 
 " So strong was my impulse to return to you that 
 I put the sea between us, for I could not trust my 
 self, and knew that Geoffrey would write me if he 
 
220 MOODS. 
 
 failed. He did ; but, as if Providence meant to teach 
 me patience, that one letter went astray and never 
 reached me till two weeks ago." 
 
 " My fate ! " sighed Sylvia bitterly. 
 
 " No, my fault. I should have written, but I feared 
 to betray myself to Geoffrey. It is hard to hide my 
 thoughts behind words. I knew he would discover me, 
 and sacrifice himself. I meant he should be happy 
 at all costs. I did write him before I was to leave 
 on my long voyage ; but the lost letter arrived, and, 
 never waiting for his reply to mine, I came as fast as 
 steam could bring me to find you and tell you this." 
 
 He bent to give her a tender welcome to eager heart 
 and arms, but Sylvia arrested him. 
 
 " Not yet, Adam. Tell me all, and then I will 
 answer you." 
 
 He thought it was some maidenly scruple, and 
 though he smiled at it he respected it ; for this coyness 
 in the midst of all her whims had always been one 
 of her charms to him. 
 
 " Shy thing ! I shall tame you yet, and draw you 
 to me as confidingly as I drew the little bird to hop 
 into my hand and eat. You must not fear me, or I 
 shall grow tyrannical ; for I hate fear, and love to see 
 people freely and bravely accept what belongs to them, 
 as I do now to you." 
 
 " It is not you I fear, it is myself," murmured 
 Sylvia, adding aloud, anxious yet dreading to have 
 the story done, " What led you here, Adam, hoping 
 so much, knowing so little ? " 
 
SYLVIA S HONEYMOON. 221 
 
 Warwick laughed as he shook the hair off his broad 
 forehead, and looked down at her with a look she 
 dared not meet. 
 
 " Do I not always aim straight at the end I have 
 in view and pursue it by the shortest roads, heedless 
 of obstacles ? I often fail and go back to the slower, 
 surer way ; but my own is always the one tried first 
 as impetuously as I hurled myself down that path, 
 more as if storming a battery than going to meet my 
 sweetheart. Among the persons I met on landing 
 was a friend of your father s : he was driving away in 
 hot haste with his son ; but, catching a glimpse of the 
 familiar face, I bethought rne that as it was the season 
 for summer travel, you might be away, he would know, 
 and time be saved. I asked one question, Where 
 are the Yules ? He answered, as he vanished, The 
 young people are all at the mountains. That was 
 enough, and, congratulating myself on the forethought 
 which would save me some hundred miles of needless 
 delay, away I went, and for days have been searching 
 for you everywhere on that side of these hills which 
 I know so well. But no Yules had passed, and, feel 
 ing sure you were on this side, I came, not around, 
 but straight over, for this seemed a royal road to my 
 love, and here I found her waiting for me by the way. 
 Now, Sylvia, are your doubts all answered, your fears 
 all laid, your heart at rest on mine ? " 
 
 As the time drew nearer, Sylvia s task daunted her. 
 Warwick was so confident, so glad and tender over 
 her, it seemed like pronouncing the death doom to 
 
222 MOODS. 
 
 say those hard words, "It is too late." While she 
 struggled to find some expression that should tell all 
 kindly yet entirely, Adam, seeming to read some hint 
 of her trouble, asked, with that new gentleness which 
 now overlaid his former abruptness, and was the more 
 alluring for the contrast, 
 
 " Have I been too arrogant a lover ? too sure of hap 
 piness, too blind to my small deserts ? Sylvia, have 
 I misunderstood the greeting you have given me ? " 
 
 " Yes, Adam." 
 
 He knit his brows, his eyes grew anxious, his 
 content seemed rudely broken, but still hopefully he 
 said, 
 
 " You mean that absence has changed you, that 
 you do not love me as you did, and pity made you 
 kind ? Well, I receive the disappointment, but I do 
 not relinquish my hope. What has been may be ; 
 let me try again to earn you ; teach me to be humble, 
 patient, all that I should be to make myself more dear 
 to you. Something disturbs you ; be frank with me. 
 I have shown you all my heart ; what have you to 
 show me in return ? " 
 
 " Only this." 
 
 She freed herself entirely from his hold and held 
 up her hand before him. He did not see the ring ; 
 he thought she gave him all he asked, and with a 
 glow of gratitude extended both his own to take it. 
 Then she saw that delay was worse than weak, and 
 though she trembled she spoke out bravely, ending 
 his suspense at once, 
 
SYLVIA S HONEYMOON. 223 
 
 " Adam, I do not love you as I did, nor can I wish 
 or try to bring it back, because I am married." 
 
 He sprang up as if shot through the heart, nor 
 could a veritable bullet from her hand have daunted 
 him with a more intense dismay than those three 
 words. An instant s incredulity, then conviction came 
 to him, and he met it like a man ; for though his face 
 whitened and his eye burned with an expression that 
 wrung her heart, he demanded steadily, 
 
 " To whom, if not to Geoffrey ? " 
 
 This was the hardest question of all, for well she 
 knew the name would wound the deeper for its dear- 
 ness, since he believed his friend had failed; and 
 while it lingered pitifully upon her lips its owner 
 answered for himself. Clear and sweet came up the 
 music of the horn, bringing them a familiar air they 
 all loved, and had often sung together. Warwick 
 knew it instantly, felt the hard truth but rebelled 
 against it, and put out his arm as if to ward it off as 
 he exclaimed, with real anguish in countenance and 
 voice, 
 
 " Sylvia, it is he ? " 
 
 " Yes ! " 
 
 Then, as if all strength had gone out of her, she 
 dropped down upon the mossy stone and covered up 
 her face, feeling that the first sharpness of a pain like 
 this was not for human eyes to witness. How many 
 minutes passed she could not tell, the stillness of the 
 spot remained unbroken by any sound but the whis 
 per of the wind, and in this silence Sylvia found time 
 
224 MOODS. 
 
 to marvel at the calmness which came to her. Self 
 had been forgotten in surprise and sympathy, and 
 still her one thought was how to comfort Warwick. 
 She had expected some outburst of feeling, some gust 
 of anger or despair, but neither sigh nor sob, reproach 
 nor regret, reached her, and soon she stole an anxious 
 glance to see how it went with him. He was stand 
 ing where she left him, both hands locked together 
 till they were white with the passionate pressure. 
 His eyes fixed on some distant object with a regard 
 as imploring as unseeing, and through those windows 
 of the soul he looked out darkly, not despairingly; 
 but as if sure that somewhere there was help for 
 him, and he waited for it with a stern patience more 
 terrible to watch than the most tempestuous grief. 
 Sylvia could not bear it, and, remembering that her 
 confession had not yet been made, seized that instant 
 for the purpose, prompted by an instinct which as 
 sured her that the knowledge of her pain would help 
 him to bear his own. 
 
 She told him all, and ended, saying imploringly, 
 
 " Adam, how can 1 comfort you ? " 
 
 Sylvia was right ; for through the sorrowful bewil 
 derment that brought a brief eclipse of hope and 
 courage, sympathy reached him like a friendly hand 
 to uphold him till he found the light again. While 
 speaking, she had seen the immobility that frightened 
 her break up, and Warwick s whole face flush and 
 quiver with the rush of emotions controllable no 
 longer. But the demonstration which followed was 
 
SYLVIA S HONEYMOON. 225 
 
 one she had never thought to see from him, for when 
 she stretched, her hands to him with that remorseful 
 cry, she saw the deep eyes fill and overflow. Then 
 he threw himself down before her, and for the first 
 time in her short life showed her that sad type of 
 human suffering, a man weeping like a woman. 
 
 Warwick was one of those whose passions, as his 
 virtues, were in unison with the powerful body they 
 inhabited, and in such a crisis as the present but one 
 of two reliefs was possible to him, either wrathful 
 denunciation, expostulation, and despair, or the aban 
 don of a child. Against the former he had been 
 
 O 
 
 struggling dumbly till Sylvia s words had turned the 
 tide; and, too entirely natural to feel a touch of shame 
 at that which is not a weakness but a strength, too 
 wise to reject so safe an outlet for so dangerous a 
 grief, he yielded to it, letting the merciful magic of 
 tears quench the fire, wash the first bitterness away, 
 and leave reproaches only writ in water. It was bet 
 ter so, and Sylvia acknowledged it within herself as 
 she sat mute and motionless, softly touching the 
 brown head lying on the moss, her poor consolation 
 silenced by the pathos of the sight, while through it 
 all rose and fell the fitful echo of the horn, in very 
 truth " a sweet reminder not to stray away and lose 
 herself." An hour ago it would have been a wel 
 come sound, for peak after peak gave back the strain, 
 and airy voices whispered it until the faintest mur 
 mur died. But now she let it soar and sigh half 
 heard, for audible to her alone still came its sad 
 
 15 
 
226 MOODS. 
 
 accompaniment of bitter human tears. To "Warwick 
 it was far more ; for Music, the comforter, laid her 
 balm on his sore heart as no mortal pity could have 
 done, and wrought the miracle which changed the 
 friend who seemed to have robbed him of his love to 
 an unconscious Orpheus, who subdued the savage 
 and harmonized the man. Soon he was himself 
 again; for to those who harbor the strong virtues 
 with patient zeal, no lasting ill can come, no afflic 
 tion can wholly crush, no temptation wholly vanquish. 
 He rose with eyes the clearer for their stormy rain, 
 twice a man for having dared to be a child again ; 
 humbler and happier for the knowledge that neither 
 vain resentment nor unjust accusation had defrauded 
 of its dignity the heavy hour that left him desolate 
 but not degraded. 
 
 " I am comforted, Sylvia, rest assured of that. And 
 now there is little more to say, but one thing to do. 
 I shall not see your husband yet, and leave you to tell 
 him what seems best ; for with the instinct of an ani 
 mal, I always go away to outlive my hurts alone. 
 Bat remember that I acquit you of blame, and be 
 lieve that I can yet be happy in your happiness. I 
 know if Geoffrey were here, he would let me do this, 
 because he has suffered as I suffer now." 
 
 Bending, he gathered her to an embrace as differ 
 ent from that other as despair is from delight, and 
 while he held her there, crowding into one short min 
 ute all the pain and passion of a year, she heard a 
 low, but exceeding bitter cry, " Oh, my Sylvia ! it 
 
SYLVIA S HONEYMOON. 227 
 
 is hard to give you up." Then, with a solemn satis 
 faction, which assured her as it did himself, he spoke 
 out clear and loud, 
 
 " Thank God for the merciful Hereafter, in which 
 we may retrieve the blunders we make here." 
 
 With that he left her, never turning till the bur 
 den so joyfully cast down had been resumed. Then, 
 staff and hat in hand, he paused on the margin of 
 that granite cup, to him a cup of sorrow, and looked 
 into its depths again. Clouds were trooping eastward, 
 but in that pause the sun glanced full on Warwick s 
 figure, lifting his powerful head into a flood of light, 
 as he waved his hand to Sylvia with a gesture of cour 
 age and good cheer. The look, the act, the memories 
 they brought her, made her heart ache with a sharper 
 pang than pity, and filled her eyes with tears of im 
 potent regret, as she turned her head as if to chide 
 the blithe clamor of the horn. When she looked 
 again, the figure and the sunshine were both gone, 
 leaving her alone and in the shadow. 
 
 Her husband found her sitting where he left her, 
 but so pale it filled him with anxiety and self- 
 reproach. 
 
 " My poor child, you are tired out, and this rarefied 
 air is too much for you. We will go down at once 
 and you shall rest." 
 
 " Yes, mountain-tops are too high for me ; I am 
 safer in the valley with you, Geoffrey," she answered, 
 clinging to his arm as if quite spent with the fateful 
 hour that waked her from a dream of forgetfulness. 
 
228 MOODS. 
 
 CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 A FIRESIDE FETE. 
 
 to your new home. May it be a 
 
 ^ * happy one to you, little dearest ! " said Moor, 
 some days later, as he led her into the old Manse, now 
 wearing its holiday air in honor of the coming of a 
 mistress. 
 
 " It does not seem new but very dear and lovely, 
 Geoffrey. I was always happy here, and hope to be 
 so now, if you are," answered Sylvia, with a wistful 
 look in the eyes that wandered to and fro as if seek 
 ing the peace she used to find in this tranquil place. 
 
 " No fear for me since you are here. Now will you 
 rest a little or run about and view your new kingdom 
 before you take possession ? " asked Moor, eager to 
 see her in the place he had so often pictured her as 
 filling. 
 
 " Come and show me everything yourself. But, 
 Geoffrey, please let all go on as before while I learn 
 to be a housekeeper. Mrs. Best will like that, and 
 Prue won t worry over my failures as she did at home 
 when she tried to teach me her own thrifty ways. I 
 had rather be with you, if I may, and not let the prose 
 of married life disturb the poetry too soon. Do you 
 mind ? " 
 
A FIRESIDE FfiTE. 229 
 
 Charmed with the suggestion and glad to keep her 
 to himself, Moor readily consented, and Sylvia began 
 her new life so quietly that little seemed changed 
 from the old, except the constant presence of the 
 friend who still was more like a lover than a husband, 
 and lived for her alone, knowing nothing of the inner 
 world his young wife hid from him. 
 
 Of Warwick s confession she had never spoken, for 
 it came too late to bring happiness to her, too soon to 
 make it possible for her to cloud Moor s joy by tell 
 ing it. She would be as brave as Adam, and silently 
 live down importunate memories, dangerous thoughts, 
 vain regrets ; folding the leaf over the bitter past, 
 trying to make the present what it should be, leaving 
 the future to Heaven s will submissively. 
 
 The knowledge that she had not given that first 
 love of hers unsought soothed her pride, comforted 
 her heart, and made compassion for Adam seem a 
 safe sentiment to cherish, since any softer one was 
 now forbidden. She had suffered so much before that 
 now regret had lost its sharpest sting, renunciation 
 grown easier, and a sincere desire to be worthy the 
 regard of both the men who loved her gave her a 
 strength that for a time at least wore the semblance 
 of content, if not happiness. 
 
 Max wondered at the quiet life she preferred, Prue 
 thought her wise to leave the reins in Mrs. Best s ac 
 complished hands, and her father hoped she was safely 
 anchored in a peaceful harbor with a very tender pi 
 lot to guard her if storms came. It seemed a lovely 
 
230 MOODS. 
 
 home, and those who saw its proud master, its little 
 mistress, fancied that their future was without a cloud, 
 blessed as they were with all that makes this world a 
 foretaste of Heaven. 
 
 But the high mood which sustained Sylvia s soul 
 at first, as the pure mountain air braced her body, 
 slowly lost its efficacy when the strain of daily life 
 began to wear upon her nerves, and duty passed from 
 willing effort to a constant struggle to forget. It was 
 possible for days, and she would think she had won 
 an enduring calm, when some trifle would bring the 
 old pang, some truant thought would stray from her 
 control, some involuntary wish startle her with a fear 
 of disloyalty, and the battle was all to be fought over 
 again. 
 
 Moor felt a subtle change in her, indescribable, yet 
 visible, for she seemed to have left girlhood behind 
 her with her honeymoon, and to be pausing on the 
 threshold of womanhood, half fearing to cross it and 
 assume the weightier duties, more sacred joys, and 
 tenderer hopes that lay waiting for her beyond. He 
 had been a faithful friend and a patient lover, now he 
 was a generous and devoted husband, leaving time 
 and tenderness to make her wholly his. He asked 
 no questions, made no comments, demanded no sac 
 rifices, but bore her moods as if he loved her in any 
 guise she chose to wear, and never doubted that he 
 should one day understand all that perplexed or 
 troubled him now. So three months passed, and then 
 Moor unconsciously marred his own peace by a vain 
 
A FIRESIDE FfiTE. 231 
 
 effort to please Sylvia, whose growing ennui could not 
 escape his anxious eyes. 
 
 " Just a year to-night since a hard-hearted little girl 
 said she would not even try to love me. I thought she 
 would change her mind, and this proves that I was 
 right. Were you thinking of it also ? " he asked, 
 corning into the study one dull November evening to 
 find Sylvia in the great chair gazing at the fire that 
 glowed on the wide hearth. 
 
 She looked up and smiled, as she always did when 
 he joined her. 
 
 " ISTo ; this splendid fire reminded me of another be 
 fore which I once sat roasting corn and apples, and 
 telling stories." 
 
 " Ah, that was our voyage up the river. You en 
 joyed that very much, I remember." 
 
 " Yes, I was a little girl then, and felt so free, so 
 happy, it is impossible to forget it." 
 
 Sylvia spoke honestly, for she was always true when 
 it was possible, as if the memory of one secret made 
 her anxious to have no more. 
 
 " Dear child, you speak as if you had left youth far 
 behind you and age had clawed you in its clutch/ " 
 said Moor, leaning over the high chair-back to smooth 
 the wavy gold of the beloved head that leaned there. 
 
 " I do feel very old sometimes. My responsibilities 
 rather weigh upon me, and I want to drop them for an 
 hour and be a little girl again. Just one of my moods ; 
 don t mind it, Geoffrey." 
 
 " Nothing shall burden you if I can help it. Drop 
 
232 MOODS. 
 
 these troublesome responsibilities now, and be a little 
 girl again. I 11 show you how." 
 
 Moor spoke so cheerfully, looked so well pleased at 
 something, and seemed so ready to grant her wish 
 that Sylvia sat up with an inquiring face, a lighter 
 tone in her quiet voice. 
 
 " You are always ready to please me and I m very 
 grateful, dear. What shall we do ? You look as if 
 you had some nice little plan or surprise waiting to be 
 told." 
 
 " I have ; but my surprise comes to-morrow, and you 
 can amuse yourself with guessing what it is till then. 
 My plan now is to sit upon the rug and roast apples, 
 pop corn, tell stories, and be young again. It is so 
 rainy no one will come, unless Max happens in, and 
 he will give us another comrade. I wish Adam wera 
 here, then we should have all the actors in that pretty 
 little play of ours." 
 
 Sylvia did not echo the wish aloud, but as if to es 
 cape from thought by action, she sprang up eagerly, 
 and Moor, fancying the plan pleased her well, threw 
 himself heartily into it for her sake. 
 
 " That sweeping dress of yours and the crown of hair 
 with which you try to make yourself look matronly 
 will never do for the little girl. Run away and chauge 
 yourself into the Sylvia you were that summer, then 
 nothing will break the illusion. 1 11 put on my garden- 
 jacket and look as much like the old Geoffrey as 
 possible." 
 
 " Yes, do ; I always like you so because you look 
 
A FIRESIDE FfiTE. 233 
 
 like Shelley, with the round jacket, the fine forehead, 
 and poetic eyes," said Sylvia, with the affectionate 
 pride which pleased him, though he vaguely felt its 
 lack of wifely warmth. 
 
 " 1 11 write you a poem in return for that compli 
 ment. Now I must set the stage and prepare for a 
 fireside fete which shall prove that all the poetry is 
 not gone from married life." 
 
 No lad could have spoken with a blither face, for 
 Moor had preserved much of the boy in spite of his 
 thirty years. His cheerfulness was so infectious, that 
 Sylvia already began to forget her ennui, and hurried 
 away to do her part. Putting on a short, girlish gown, 
 kept for scrambles among the rocks, she braideci her 
 long hair, with butterfly bows at the ends, and impro 
 vised a pinafore. When she went down she found her 
 husband in the garden-jacket, collar turned over a rib 
 bon, hair in a curly tumble, and jackknife in hand, 
 seated on the rug before a roaring fire and a semicircle 
 of apples, whittling arid whistling like a very boy. 
 They examined one another with mirthful commenda 
 tions, and Moor began his part by saying, 
 
 " Is n t this jolly ? Now come and sit beside me, 
 and see which will keep it up the longest." 
 
 " What would Prue say ? and who would recognize 
 the elegant Mr. Moor in this big boy ? Putting- 
 dignity and broadcloth aside makes you look about 
 eighteen, and very charming I find you," said Syl 
 via, looking about twelve herself, and also very 
 charming. 
 
234 MOODS. 
 
 " Here is a wooden fork for you to tend the roast 
 with, while I prepare a vegetable snowstorm. What 
 will you have, little girl ? You look as if you wanted 
 something ? " 
 
 " I was only thinking that I should have a doll to 
 match your knife. I feel as if I should enjoy trotting 
 a staring fright on my knee, and singing Hush-a-by. 
 But I fancy even your magic cannot produce such a 
 thing, can it, my lad ? " 
 
 " In exactly five minutes a lovely doll will appear, 
 though such a thing has not been seen in my bachelor 
 establishment for years." 
 
 With which mysterious announcement Moor ran 
 off, blundering over the ottomans and slamming the 
 doors as a true boy should. Sylvia pricked chestnuts, 
 and began to forget her bosom trouble as she won 
 dered what would come with the impatient curiosity 
 appropriate to the character she had assumed. Pres 
 ently her husband reappeared with a squirming bundle 
 in his arms. Triumphantly unfolding a shawl, he 
 displayed little Tilly in her nightgown. 
 
 " There is sorcery for you, and a doll worth having. 
 Being one of the sort that can shut its eyes, it was 
 going to bed, but its mamma relented and lends it to 
 us for an hour. She is spending the night here, as her 
 husband is away, so your wish could easily be granted. 
 Here are some clothes, so you can dress your dolly to 
 suit yourself or leave her as she is." 
 
 Sylvia received her pretty plaything with enthusi 
 asm, and Tilly felt herself suddenly transported to a 
 
A FIRESIDE FfiTE. 235 
 
 baby s Paradise, where beds were unknown and fruit 
 and freedom were her welcome portion. Merrily 
 popped the corn, nimbly danced the nuts upon the 
 shovel, lustily remonstrated the rosy martyrs on the 
 hearth, and cheerfully the minutes slipped away. 
 Sylvia sang every jubilant air she knew, Moor whistled 
 astonishing accompaniments, and Tilly danced over 
 the carpet with nutshells on her toes, and tried to 
 fill her little gown with " pitty flowers " from its gar 
 lands and bouquets. Without the wind lamented, 
 the sky wept, and the sea thundered on the shore ; 
 but within, youth, innocence, and love held their 
 blithe revel undisturbed. 
 
 " How are the spirits now ? " asked one playmate 
 of the other. 
 
 " Quite merry, thank you ; and I should think I 
 was little Sylvia again but for the sight of this." 
 
 She held up the hand that wore a single ornament ; 
 but the hand had grown so slender since it was first 
 put on, that the ring would have fallen had she not 
 caught it at her finger-tip. There was nothing of the 
 boy in her companion s face, as he said, with an 
 anxious look, 
 
 " If you go on thinning so fast I shall begin to 
 fear that the little wife is not happy with her old 
 husband. Is she, dear ? " 
 
 "She would be a most ungrateful woman if she 
 were not. I always get thin as winter comes on ; bat 
 I m so careless I 11 find a guard for my ring to 
 morrow." 
 
236 MOODS. 
 
 " No need to wait till then ; wear this to please me, 
 and let Marion s cipher signify that you are mine." 
 
 With a gravity that touched her more than the 
 bestowal of so dear a relic, Moor unslung a signet 
 ring from his watchguard, and with some difficulty 
 pressed it to its place on Sylvia s finger, a most effect 
 ual keeper for that other ring whose tenure seemed 
 so slight. She shrunk a little and glanced up at him, 
 because his touch was more firm than tender, and his 
 face wore a masterful expression seldom seen there ; 
 for instinct, subtler than perception, prompted both 
 act and aspect. Then her eye fell and fixed upon 
 the dark stone with the single letter engraved upon 
 its tiny oval, and to her it took a double significance 
 as her husband held it there, claiming her again, with 
 that emphatic " Mine." She did not speak, but 
 something in her manner caused the fold between his 
 brows to smooth itself away as he regarded the small 
 hand lying passively in his, and said, half playfully, 
 half earnestly, 
 
 " Forgive me if I hurt you, but you know my woo 
 ing is not over yet ; and till you love me with real 
 love I cannot feel that my wife is wholly mine." 
 
 " Wait for me, Geoffrey, a little longer, for indeed I 
 do my best to be all you would have me." 
 
 Something brought tears into her eyes and made her 
 lips tremble, but in a breath the smile came back, 
 and she added gayly, 
 
 " How can I help being grave sometimes, and get 
 ting thin, with so many housekeeping cares upon my 
 
A FIRESIDE FfiTE. 237 
 
 shoulders, and such an exacting, tyrannical husband 
 to wear upon rny nerves. Don t I look like the most 
 miserable of wives ? " 
 
 She certainly did not as she shook the popper 
 laughingly, and looked over her shoulder at him, with 
 the bloom of firelight on her cheeks, its cheerfulness 
 in her eyes. 
 
 " Keep that expression for every-day wear, and I 
 am satisfied. I want no tame Griselda, but the young 
 girl who once said she was always happy with me. 
 Assure me of that, and, having won my Leah, I can 
 work and wait still longer for my Eachel. Bless the 
 baby ! what has she done to herself now ? " 
 
 Tilly had retired behind the sofa, after she had 
 swarmed over every chair and couch, examined every 
 thing within her reach, on dtagere and table, embraced 
 the Hebe in the corner, played a fantasia on the piano, 
 and choked herself with the stopper of the odor bottle. 
 A doleful wail betrayed her hiding-place, and she 
 now emerged with a pair of nut-crackers, ditto of 
 pinched fingers, and an expression of great mental 
 and bodily distress. Her woes vanished instanta 
 neously, however, when the feast was announced, 
 and she performed an unsteady pas seul about the 
 banquet, varied by darts at any unguarded viand that 
 tempted her. 
 
 No ordinary table service would suit the holders of 
 this fireside fete. The corn was heaped in a bronze 
 urn, the nuts in a graceful basket, the apples lay on 
 a plate of curiously ancient china, and the water 
 
238 MOODS. 
 
 turned to wine through the medium of a purple 
 flagon of Bohemian glass. The refection was spread 
 upon the rug as on a flowery table, and all the lustres 
 were lighted, filling the room with a festal glow. 
 Prue would have held up her hands in dismay, like 
 the benighted piece of excellence she was, but Max 
 would have enjoyed the picturesque group and 
 sketched a mate to the Golden Wedding. For 
 Moor, armed with the wooden fork, did the honors ; 
 Sylvia, leaning on her arm, dropped corn after corn 
 into a baby mouth that birdlike always gaped for 
 more ; and Tilly lay luxuriously between them, 
 warming her little feet as she ate and babbled to the 
 flames. 
 
 The clock was on the stroke of eight, the revel at 
 its height, when the door opened and a servant an 
 nounced, 
 
 " Miss Dane and Mr. Warwick." 
 
 An impressive pause followed, broken by a crow 
 from Tilly, who seized this propitious moment to bury 
 one hand in the nuts and with the other capture the 
 big red apple which had been denied her. The sound 
 seemed to dissipate the blank surprise that had fallen 
 on all parties, and brought both host and hostess to 
 their feet, the former exclaiming heartily, 
 
 " Welcome, friends, to a modern saturnalia and the 
 bosom of the Happy Family ! " 
 
 " I know you did not expect us till to-morrow, but 
 Mr. Warwick was impatient, I was a little anxious, 
 and so we came on at once," said Miss Dane, looking 
 
A FIRESIDE FfiTE. 239 
 
 about her as if the cheerful scene and faces were the 
 reverse of what she expected to find. 
 
 Warwick also looked rather bewildered and very 
 anxious. But Moor seemed quite satisfied with the 
 effect of his surprise, for he had written to both simply 
 saying that he wanted them at once. 
 
 "We are playing children to-night, so just put 
 yourselves back a dozen years, and let us all be merry 
 together. Sylvia, this is the cousin of whom I have 
 told you so much. Faith, here is your new kins 
 woman, not as imposing as she would have been if 
 you had not taken a base advantage of us. Little 
 dearest, I invited these friends because I thought they 
 would do us good. I wanted you to know Faith, and 
 could riot resist the desire to catch Adam before he 
 set off to the North Pole, if he ever does." 
 
 A short stir ensued while hands were shaken, wraps 
 put away, and some degree of order restored to the 
 room, then they all sat down and began to talk. With 
 well-bred oblivion of the short gown and long braids 
 of her bashful-looking hostess, Miss Dane suggested 
 ai d discussed various subjects of mutual interest, 
 while Sylvia tried to keep her eyes from wandering 
 to the mirror opposite, which reflected the figures of 
 her husband and his friend. 
 
 Warwick sat erect in the easy-chair, for he never 
 lounged ; and Moor, still supporting his character, 
 was perched upon the arm, talking with boyish vi 
 vacity. Every sense being unwontedly alert, Sylvia 
 found herself listening to both guests at once, and 
 
240 MOODS. 
 
 bearing her own part in one conversation so well that 
 occasional lapses were only attributed to natural em 
 barrassment. What she and Miss Dane said she 
 never remembered; what the other pair talked of she 
 never forgot. The first words she caught were her 
 husband s. 
 
 " You see I have begun to live for myself, Adam." 
 
 " I also see that it agrees with you excellently." 
 
 " Better than so much solitude does with you. 
 "What have you been at to get this gaunt, uncanny 
 look, Adam?" 
 
 " Carrying on the old fight with the world, the flesh, 
 and the devil, and getting the worst of it some 
 times." 
 
 " Then it will be good for you to rest a little in a 
 friend s house. You should not have waited to be 
 asked. Eemember that whatever changes come to 
 me, my home is always yours." 
 
 " I know it, but I feared to disturb your happiness. 
 Your brief note alarmed me, for I thought something 
 must be amiss, and hurried to you at once." 
 
 "I thought that mysterious message would bring 
 you. Peace reigns here, as you see, but I fancied 
 Sylvia needed more society ; she is hard to please, 
 and I knew you and Faith would suit her. No need 
 to tell how glad I am to see my two best friends under 
 my roof." 
 
 "Was it wise to surprise her? Are you sure she 
 will like it ?" asked Warwick, with such unaccus 
 tomed doubt and hesitation that Moor laughed, and 
 
A FIRESIDE FfiTE. 241 
 
 pulled a lock of the brown mane as if to tease the lion 
 into a display of the self-confidence and composure 
 he seemed to have lost. 
 
 " How shy you are of speaking the new name ! 
 1 She will like it, I assure you, for she makes my 
 friends hers. Sylvia, come here, and tell Adam he is 
 welcome ; he dares to doubt it. Come and talk ever 
 old times while I do the same with Faith." 
 
 She went, trembling inwardly, but outwardly com 
 posed, for she took refuge in one of those common 
 place acts which in such moments we gladly perform, 
 and bless in our secret souls. She had often wondered 
 where they would next meet, and how she should 
 comport herself at such a trying time. She had 
 never imagined that he would come in this way, or 
 that a hearth-brush would save her from the betrayal 
 of emotion. So it was, however, and an involuntary 
 smile passed over her face as she managed to say 
 quite naturally, while brushing the nutshells tidily 
 out of sight, 
 
 " You know you are always welcome, Mr. Warwick. 
 Adam s Koom/ as we call it, is always ready, and 
 Geoffrey was wishing for you only yesterday." 
 
 " I am sure of his satisfaction at my coming, can I 
 be equally sure of yours ? May I, ought I to stay ? " 
 
 He leaned forward as he spoke, with an eager, yet 
 submissive look, that Sylvia dared not meet, and in 
 her anxiety to preserve her self-possession, she forgot 
 that to this listener every uttered word became a 
 truth, because his own were always so. 
 
 16 
 
242 MOODS. 
 
 " Why not, if you can bear our quiet life, for we 
 are a Darby and Joan already, though we do not look 
 so to-night, I acknowledge." 
 
 Men seldom understand the subterfuges women in 
 stinctively use to conceal many a natural emotion 
 which they are not strong enough to control, not 
 brave enough to confess. To Warwick, Sylvia seemed 
 almost careless, her words a light answer to the real 
 meaning of his question, her smile one of tranquil 
 welcome. Her manner wrought an instant change in 
 him, and when he spoke again he was the Warwick 
 of a year ago. 
 
 " I hesitated, Mrs. Moor, because I have sometimes 
 heard young wives complain that their husbands 
 friends were marplots, and I have no desire to be 
 one." 
 
 This speech, delivered with frosty gravity, made 
 Sylvia as cool and quiet as itself. She put her ally 
 down, looked full at Warwick, and said with a blend 
 ing of dignity and cordiality which even the pina 
 fore could not destroy, 
 
 " Whatever pleases Geoffrey pleases me. Do not 
 let my presence here make him inhospitable to old 
 friends." 
 
 " Thanks ; and now that the hearth is scrupulously 
 clean may I offer you a chair ? " 
 
 The old keenness was in his eye, the old firmness 
 about the mouth, as Warwick presented the seat, with 
 an inclination that to her seemed ironical. She sat 
 down, but when she cast about her mind for some safe 
 
A FIRESIDE FfiTE. 243 
 
 and easy topic to introduce, every idea had fled ; even 
 memory and fancy turned traitors ; not a lively sally 
 could be found, not a pleasant remembrance returned 
 to help her, and- she sat dumb. Before the dreadful 
 pause grew awkward, however, rescue came in the 
 form of Tilly. Nothing daunted by the severe sim 
 plicity of her little wrapper, she planted herself be 
 fore Warwick, and, shaking her hair out of her eyes, 
 stared at him with an inquiring glance and cheeks as 
 red as her apple. She seemed satisfied in a moment, 
 and climbing to his knee established herself there, 
 coolly taking possession of his watch, and examining 
 the brown beard curiously as it parted with the white 
 Hash of teeth, when Warwick smiled his warmest 
 smile. 
 
 " This recalls the night you fed the sparrow in your 
 hand. Do you remember, Adam ? " and Sylvia looked 
 and spoke like her old self again. 
 
 " I seldom forget anything. But pleasant as that 
 hour was this is more to me, for the bird flew away*, 
 the baby stays and gives me what I need." 
 
 He wrapped the child closer in his arms, leaned his 
 dark head on the bright one, and took the little feet 
 into Ids hand with a fatherly look that caused Tilly to 
 pat his cheek and begin an animated recital of some 
 nursery legend, which ended in a sudden gape, re 
 minding Sylvia that one of her guests was keeping late 
 hours. 
 
 " What comes next ? " asked Warwick. 
 
 " Now I lay me, and byelow in the trib," answered 
 
244 MOODS. 
 
 Tilly, stretching herself over his arm with a great 
 yawn. 
 
 Warwick kissed the rosy half-open mouth, and 
 seemed loath to part with the pious baby, for he took 
 the shawl Sylvia brought and did up the drowsy 
 bundle himself. While so busied she stole a furtive 
 glance at him, having looked without seeing before. 
 Thinner and browner, but as strong as ever was the fa 
 miliar face she saw, yet neither sad nor stern, for the 
 grave gentleness which had been a fugitive expression 
 before now seemed habitual. This, with a slow drop 
 ping of the eyes, as if an inward life absorbed him 
 more, were the only tokens of the sharp experience he 
 had been passing through. Born for conflict and en 
 durance, he seemed to have manfully accepted the 
 sweet uses of adversity and grown the richer for his 
 loss. 
 
 Those who themselves are quick to suffer are also 
 quick to see the marks of suffering in others ; that 
 hasty scrutiny assured Sylvia of all she had yearned 
 to know, yet wrung her heart with a pity the deeper 
 for its impotence. Tilly s heavy head drooped be 
 tween her bearer and the light as they left the room, 
 but in the dusky hall a few hot tears fell on the baby s 
 hair, and her new nurse lingered long after the lullaby 
 was done. When she reappeared the girlish dress 
 was gone, and she was Madam Moor again, as her 
 husband called her when she assumed the stately air 
 and trailing silks that failed to make a matron of her. 
 All smiled at the change, but he alone spoke of it. 
 
A FIRESIDE FfiTE. 245 
 
 " I win the applause, Sylvia ; for I sustain my 
 character to the end, while you give up before the 
 curtain falls, You are not so good an actress as I 
 thought you." 
 
 Sylvia s smile was sadder than her tears as she 
 briefly answered, 
 
 " No ; I find I cannot be a child again." 
 
246 MOODS. 
 
 CHAPTEE XVI. 
 
 EARLY AND LATE, 
 
 ONE of Sylvia s first acts when she rose was most 
 significant. She shook down her abundant hair, 
 carefully arranged a part in thick curls over cheeks 
 and forehead, gathered the rest into its usual coil, and 
 said to herself, as she surveyed her face half hidden in 
 the shining cloud, 
 
 " It looks very sentimental, and I hate the weak 
 ness that drives me to it, but it must be done, because 
 my face is such a traitor. Poor Geoffrey ! he said I 
 was no actress ; I am learning fast." 
 
 Why every faculty seemed sharpened, every object 
 assumed an unwonted interest, and that quiet hour 
 possessed an excitement that made her own room and 
 countenance look strange to her, she would not ask 
 herself, as she paused on the threshold of the door to 
 ascertain if her guests were stirring. Nothing was 
 heard but the sound of regular footfalls on the walk 
 before the door, and with an expression of relief, she 
 slowly went down. Moor was taking his morning 
 walk bareheaded in the sun. Usually Sylvia ran to 
 join him, but now she stood musing on the steps, until 
 he saw and came to her. As he offered the flower 
 always ready for her, he said smiling, 
 
EARLY AND LATE. 247 
 
 " Did the play last night so captivate you that you 
 go back to the curls because you cannot keep the 
 braids?" 
 
 " A sillier whim than that, even. I am afraid of 
 those two people ; and as I am so quick to show my 
 feelings in my face, I intend to hide behind this veil 
 if I get shy or troubled. Did you think I could be 
 so artful ? " 
 
 "Your craft amazes me. But, dearest child, you 
 need not be afraid of Faith and Adam. Both already 
 love you for my sake, and soon will for your own. 
 Both are so much older that they can easily overlook 
 any little shortcoming, in consideration of your youth. 
 Sylvia, I want to tell you something which will both 
 amuse and interest you, I hope. Faith wrote me 
 some time ago that she had met Adam, and found him 
 all I had told her. He also sent me a message once, 
 that he had discovered a superior woman, who sym 
 pathized in his ideas and purposes. I mentioned it 
 at the time to you, I think ? We so seldom hear 
 from this nomadic fellow that news is an event." 
 
 " Yes, I remember." 
 
 Sylvia s head was bent as if to enjoy the sweetness 
 of the flower she held, and all her husband saw was 
 the bright hair blowing in the wind. 
 
 " Now you will laugh, for I confess that, being very 
 happy myself, I took it into my head that these two 
 fine creatures belonged to one another, and only needed 
 a little gentle management to find it out. I wanted 
 to see them together, so invited them here, knowing 
 
248 MOODS. 
 
 you would enjoy them, and hoping they would take a 
 hint from us and go and do likewise." 
 
 " God forbid ! " thought Sylvia. The pathetic un 
 consciousness of her husband filled her with new 
 remorse, and made it impossible for her to wish War 
 wick the shadow of happiness which she vainly tried 
 to change into its substance. 
 
 " I never thought you would turn match-maker, 
 Geoffrey. Is n t it a dangerous part to play ? " she 
 asked, half wishing some insurmountable barrier might 
 rise between her and the man whose presence always 
 dominated her will and excited her heart. 
 
 " Not as I shall play it, and you can help* I fancy 
 Adam already feels the hand of the great tamer, and 
 that explains the new gentleness 1 see in him. I in 
 tend to study him and satisfy myself of this. You 
 must say a good word for him to Faith, as you women 
 so well know how to do. You like and believe in 
 him; paint him in your vivid, happy way, and help 
 her to know him. A mate like Faith is what he needs 
 to perfect him, and we can show him this unless I am 
 greatly mistaken." 
 
 " Perhaps for all his blindness Geoffrey is right ; 
 perhaps in this way I may atone for the pain I have 
 given Adam. Heaven help rne to do my duty and 
 forget myself," thought Sylvia, feeling as if a new 
 page in the tragic romance of her life was turned for 
 her by the hand that tried to make it a tender, happy 
 story for them all. 
 
 " I had best not meddle, Geoffrey, I am so ignorant, 
 
EARLY AND LATE. 249 
 
 so unlucky. Let me see you play the good genius 
 and not risk spoiling your work." 
 
 " I think you will soon be glad to lend a hand ; 
 most women find it impossible to abstain. I mean 
 to make the week very pleasant to them both. Adam 
 shall revisit his old haunts, and we will show Faith 
 ours. In the evening we will have Prue, Max, and 
 Jessie over here, or all go and entertain your father ; 
 so the days shall be busy and the nights cheerful with 
 the sort of pleasure we all like best. Faith longs to 
 know you, and I am sure she is the friend you need 
 to fill a place I cannot fill." 
 
 A touch of regret made the last word a little sad, 
 and Sylvia felt it like a keen reproach ; but less now 
 than ever could she tell the secret that would destroy 
 her husband s peace and mar all his happy hopes 
 for others. With an earnest longing to find Faith all 
 he suggested, she answered with a look of satisfaction 
 that gratified Moor more than her words, 
 
 " I know that I shall love her ; and if I need any 
 one beside you, dear, she shall help me to be what I 
 oaght, to make you as happy as I wish you. Now let 
 us speak of something else, or my telltale face will 
 betray that we have been talking of our guests, when 
 we meet them." 
 
 They did so, and as Warwick parted his curtains, 
 the first sight he saw was his friend walking in the 
 sunshine with the young wife who hung upon his arm 
 as if she loved to lean there listening to his voice. 
 
 For a moment Adam s face was darkened by a 
 
250 MOODS. 
 
 shadow, then it passed, as he bravely accepted the 
 seeming truth, and turned to join them, saying to 
 himself, 
 
 " Geoffrey is happy and she is learning to forget. 
 I may venture to stay since I am here. I can trust 
 myself, and perhaps give them some pleasure." 
 
 In pursuance of his plan Moor took Adam out for 
 a long tramp soon after breakfast, and Sylvia devoted 
 herself to Miss Dane. In the absence of the greater 
 interest she enjoyed the lesser, soon felt at ease, and 
 began to study her new relative. 
 
 Faith was thirty, shapely and tall, with much na 
 tive dignity of carriage, and a face singularly attrac 
 tive from its mild and earnest beauty. Looking at 
 her one felt assured that here was a right womanly 
 woman, gentle, just, and true; possessed of a well- 
 balanced mind, a self-reliant soul, and that fine gift- 
 which is so rare, the power of a noble character to act 
 as a touchstone to all who approached, forcing them 
 to rise or fall to their true level, unconscious of the 
 test applied. Her presence was comfortable, her voice 
 had motherly tones in it, her eyes a helpful look. 
 Even the soft hue of her dress, the brown gloss of her 
 hair, the graceful industry of her hands, had their at 
 tractive influence. Sylvia saw and felt these things 
 with the quickness of her susceptible temperament, 
 and found herself so warmed and won, that soon it 
 cost her an effort to withhold anything that tried or 
 troubled her, for Faith was a born consoler, and Syl 
 via s heart was full. 
 
EARLY AND LATE. 251 
 
 However gloomy her day might have been, she al 
 ways brightened in the evening as naturally as moths 
 begin to flutter when candles come. On the evening of 
 this day, the friendly atmosphere about her and the 
 excitement of Warwick s presence so affected her, that 
 though the gayety of girlhood was quite gone she 
 looked as softly brilliant as some late flower that has 
 gathered the summer to itself and gives it out again 
 in the bloom and beauty of a single hour. 
 
 When tea was over (for heroes and heroines must 
 eat if they are to do anything worth the paper on 
 which their triumphs and tribulations are recorded), 
 the women gathered about the library table, work in 
 hand, as female tongues go easier when their fingers 
 are occupied. Sylvia left Prue and Jessie to enjoy 
 Faith, and while she fabricated some trifle with scarlet 
 silk and an ivory shuttle, she listened to the conver 
 sation of the gentlemen who roved about the room 
 till a remark of Prue s brought the party together. 
 
 " Helen Chesterfield has run away from her husband 
 in the most disgraceful manner." 
 
 Max and Moor drew near, Adam leaned on the 
 chimney-piece, the workers paused, and, having pro 
 duced her sensation, Prue proceeded . to gratify their 
 curiosity as briefly as possible ; for all knew the parties 
 in question, and all waited anxiously to hear par 
 ticulars. 
 
 " She married a Frenchman old enough to be her 
 father, but very rich. She thought she loved him, 
 but when she got tired of her fine establishment, and 
 
252 MOODS. 
 
 the novelties of Paris, she found she did not, and was 
 miserable. Many of her new friends had lovers, so why 
 should not she ; and presently she began to amuse 
 herself with this Louis Gustave Isadore Theodule de 
 Trouville there s a name for a Christian man ! 
 Well, she began in play, grew in earnest, and when 
 she could bear her domestic trouble no longer she 
 just ran away, ruining herself for this life, and really 
 I don t know but for the next also." 
 
 " Poor soul ! I always thought she was a fool, but 
 upon my word I pity her," said Max. 
 
 " Ptemember she was very young, so far away from 
 her mother, with no real friend to warn and help her, 
 and love is so sweet. No wonder she went." 
 
 " Sylvia, how can you excuse her in that way ? 
 She should have done her duty whether she loved the 
 old gentleman or not, and kept her troubles to herself 
 in a proper manner. You young girls think so much 
 of love, so little of moral obligations, decorum, and 
 the opinions of the world, you are not fit judges of 
 the case. Mr. Warwick agrees with me, I am sure." 
 
 " Not in the least." 
 
 " Do you mean to say that Helen should have left 
 her husband ? " . 
 
 " Certainly, if she could not love him." 
 
 " Do you also mean to say that she did right to run 
 off with that Gustave Isadore Theodule creature ? " 
 
 " By no means. It is worse than folly to attempt 
 the righting of one wrong by the commission of 
 another." 
 
EARLY AND LATE. 253 
 
 " Then what in the world should she have done ? " 
 
 " She should have honestly decided which she loved, 
 have frankly told the husband the mistake both had 
 made, and demanded her liberty. If the lover was 
 worthy, have openly married him and borne the 
 world s censures. If not worthy, have stood alone, 
 an honest woman in God s eyes, whatever the blind 
 world might have thought." 
 
 Prue was scandalized to the last degree ; for with 
 her marriage was more a law than a gospel, a law 
 which ordained that a pair once yoked should abide 
 by their bargain, be it good or ill, and preserve the 
 proprieties in public no matter how hot a hell their 
 home might be for them and for their children. 
 
 " What a dreadful state society would be in if your 
 ideas were adopted ! People would constantly be 
 finding out that they were mismatched, and go run 
 ning about as if playing that game where every one 
 changes places. I d rather die at once than live to 
 see such a state of things as that," said the worthy 
 spinster. 
 
 : So would I, and recommend prevention rather 
 than a dangerous cure." 
 
 <: I really should like to hear your views, Mr. War 
 wick, for you quite take my breath away." 
 
 Much to Sylvia s surprise Adam appeared to like 
 the subject, and placed his views at Prue s disposal 
 with alacrity. 
 
 " I would begin at the beginning, and teach young 
 people that marriage is not the only aim and end of 
 
254 MOODS. 
 
 life, yet would fit them for it as for a sacrament too 
 high and holy to be profaned by a light word or 
 thought. Show them how to be worthy of it and 
 how to wait for it. Give them a law of life both 
 cheerful and sustaining ; a law that shall keep them 
 hopeful if single, sure that here or hereafter they will 
 find that other self and be accepted by it; happy 
 if wedded, for their own integrity of heart will teach 
 them to know the true god when he comes, and keep 
 them loyal to the last." 
 
 " That is all very excellent and charming, but what 
 are the poor souls to do who have n t been educated 
 in this fine way ? " asked Prue. 
 
 " Unhappy marriages are the tragedies of our day, 
 and will be, till we learn that there are truer laws to 
 be obeyed than those custom sanctions, other obstacles 
 than inequalities of fortune, rank, and age. Because 
 two persons love, it is not always safe or wise for 
 them to marry, nor need it necessarily wreck their 
 peace to live apart. Often what seems the best affec 
 tion of our hearts does more for us by being thwarted 
 than if granted its fulfilment and proved a failure 
 which imbitters two lives instead of sweetening 
 one," 
 
 He paused there ; but Prue wanted a clearer answer, 
 and turned to Faith, sure that the woman would take 
 her own view of the matter. 
 
 " Which of us is right, Miss Dane, in Helen s 
 case ? " 
 
 " I cannot venture to judge the young lady, know- 
 
EARLY AND LATE. 255 
 
 ing so little of her character or the influences that 
 have surrounded her, and believing that a certain 
 divine example is best for us to follow at such times. 
 I agree with Mr. Warwick, but not wholly, for his 
 summary mode of adjustment would not be quite just 
 nor right in all cases. If both find that they do not 
 love, the sooner they part the wiser; if one alone 
 makes the discovery, the case is sadder still, and 
 harder for either to decide. But as I speak from 
 observation only, my opinions are of little worth." 
 
 " Of great worth, Miss Dane ; for to women like 
 yourself observation often does the work of experi 
 ence, and despite your modesty I wait to hear the 
 opinions." 
 
 Warwick spoke, arid spoke urgently, for the effect 
 of all this upon Sylvia was too absorbing a study to be 
 relinquished yet. As he turned to her, Faith gave 
 him an intelligent glance, and answered like one 
 speaking with intention and to some secret but seri 
 ous issue, 
 
 " You shall have them. Let us suppose that Helen 
 was a woman possessed of a stronger character, a 
 deeper nature ; the husband a younger, nobler man ; 
 the lover truly excellent, and above even counselling 
 the step this pair have taken. In a case like that the 
 wife, having promised to guard another s happiness, 
 should sincerely endeavor to do so, remembering that 
 in making the joy of others we often find our own, 
 and that having made so great a mistake the other 
 should not bear all the loss. If there be a strong 
 
256 MOODS. 
 
 attachment on the husband s part, and he a man 
 worthy of affection and respect, who has given him 
 self confidingly, believing himself beloved by the wo 
 man he so loves, she should leave no effort unmade, 
 no self-denial unexacted, till she has proved beyond 
 all doubt that it is impossible to be a true wife. Then, 
 and not till then, has she the right to dissolve the tie 
 that has become a sin, because where no love lives 
 inevitable suffering and sorrow enter in, falling not 
 only upon guilty parents, but the innocent children 
 who may be given them." 
 
 " And the lover, what of him ? " asked Adam, still 
 intent upon his purpose ; for though he looked steadily 
 at Faith, he knew that Sylvia drove the shuttle in 
 and out with a desperate industry that made her 
 silence significant to him. 
 
 " I would have the lover suffer and wait ; sure that, 
 however it may fare with him, he will be the richer 
 and the better for having known the joy and pain of 
 love." 
 
 "Thank you." And to Max s surprise Warwick 
 bowed gravely, and Miss Dane resumed her work 
 with a preoccupied air. 
 
 " Well, for a confirmed celibate, it strikes me you 
 take a remarkable interest in matrimony," said Max. 
 " Or is it merely a base desire to speculate upon the 
 tribulations of your fellow-beings, and congratulate 
 yourself upon your escape from them ? " 
 
 *" Neither ; I not only pity and long to alleviate 
 them, but have a strong desire to share them, for 
 
EARLY AND LATE. 257 
 
 the wish of my life for the last year has been to 
 rnarry." 
 
 Outspoken as Warwick was at all times and on all 
 subjects, there was something in this avowal that 
 touched those present, for with the words a quick ris 
 ing light and warmth illuminated his whole counte 
 nance, and the energy of his desire tuned his voice to 
 a key which caused one heart to beat fast, one pair of 
 eyes to fill with sudden tears. Moor could not see 
 his friend s face, but he saw Max s, divined the indis 
 creet inquiry hovering on his lips, and arrested it with 
 a warning gesture. 
 
 Prue spoke first, very much disturbed by having 
 her prejudices and opinions opposed, and very anxious 
 to prove herself in the right. 
 
 " Max and Geoffrey look as if they agreed with Mr. 
 "Warwick in his excuse me if I say, dangerous 
 ideas ; but I fancy the personal application of them 
 would change their minds. Now, Max, just look at 
 it ; suppose some one of Jessie s lovers should dis 
 cover an affinity for her, and she for him, what would 
 you do ? " 
 
 " Shoot him or myself, or all three, and make a 
 neat little tragedy of it." 
 
 " There is no getting a serious answer from you, and 
 I wonder I ever try. Geoffrey, I put the case to you ; 
 if Sylvia should find she adored Julian Haize, wh$ fell 
 ill when she was married, you know, and should in 
 form you of that agreeable fact some fine day, should 
 you think it quite reasonable and right to say, " Go, 
 my dear ; I m very sorry, but it can t be helped." 
 
258 MOODS. 
 
 The way in which Prue put the case made it im 
 possible for her hearers not to laugh. But Sylvia held 
 her breath while waiting for her husband s answer. 
 He was standing behind her chair, and spoke with the 
 smile still on his lips, too confident to harbor even a 
 passing fancy. 
 
 " Perhaps I ought to be generous enough to do so, 
 but not being a Jaques, with a convenient glacier to 
 help me out of the predicament, I am afraid I should 
 be hard to manage. I love but few, and those few are 
 my world ; so do not try me too hardly, Sylvia." 
 
 " I shall do my best, Geoffrey. 
 
 She dropped her shuttle as she spoke, and, stooping 
 to pick it up, down swept the long curls over either 
 cheek ; thus, when she fell to work again, nothing of 
 her face was visible but a glimpse of forehead, dark 
 lashes, and faintly smiling mouth. Moor led the con 
 versation to other topics, and was soon deep in an art 
 discussion with Max and Miss Dane, while Prue and 
 Jessie chatted away on that safe subject, dress. But 
 Sylvia worked silently, and Warwick still leaned there, 
 watching the busy hand as if he saw something more 
 than a pretty contrast between the white fingers and 
 the scarlet silk. 
 
 When the other guests had left, and Faith and 
 himself had gone to their rooms, Warwick, bent on 
 not passing another sleepless night, went down again 
 to get a book. The library was still lighted, and 
 standing there alone he saw Sylvia, wearing an ex 
 pression that startled him. Both hands pushed back 
 
EARLY AND LATE. 259 
 
 and held her hair away as if she scorned concealment 
 from herself. Her eyes seemed fixed with a despair 
 ing glance on some invisible disturber of her peace. 
 All the light and color that made her beautiful were 
 gone, leaving her face worn and old, and the language 
 of both countenance and attitude was that of one sud 
 denly confronted with some hard fact, some heavy 
 duty, that must be accepted and performed. 
 
 This revelation lasted but a moment. Moor s step 
 came down the hall, the hair fell, the anguish passed, 
 and nothing but a wan and weary face remained. 
 But Warwick had seen it, and as he stole away un- 
 perceived he pressed his hands together, saying mourn 
 fully within himself, " I was mistaken. God help us 
 all!" 
 
260 MOODS. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 IN THE TWILIGHT. 
 
 IF Sylvia needed another trial, to make that hard 
 week harder, it soon came to her in the knowl 
 edge that Warwick watched her. She well knew 
 why, and vainly endeavored to conceal from him that 
 which she had succeeded in concealing entirely from 
 others. But he possesssed the key to her variable 
 moods ; he alone knew that now painful forethough^ 
 not caprice, dictated many of her seeming whims, 
 and ruled her simplest action. To others she ap 
 peared busy, gay, and full of interest in all about 
 her ; to him, the industry was a preventive of forbid 
 den thoughts ; the gayety, a daily endeavor to forget ; 
 the interest, an anxiety concerning the looks and 
 words of her companions, because she must guard her 
 own. 
 
 Sylvia felt something like terror in the presence of 
 this penetrating eye, this daring will ; for the vigilance 
 was unflagging and unobtrusive, and with all her 
 efforts she could not read his heart as she felt her own 
 was being read. Adam could act no part, but, bent 
 on learning the truth for the sake of all, he sur 
 mounted the dangers of the situation by no artifice, 
 no rash indulgence, but by simply shunning solitary 
 
IN THE TWILIGHT. 261 
 
 interviews with Sylvia as carefully as the courtesy 
 due his hostess would allow. In walks and drives 
 and general conversation, he bore his part, surprising 
 and delighting those who knew him best by the 
 genial change which seemed to have softened his 
 rugged nature. But the instant the family group fell 
 apart, and Moor s devotion to his cousin left Sylvia 
 alone, Warwick was away into the wood or out upon 
 the sea, lingering there till some meal, some appointed 
 pleasure, or the evening lamp brought all together, 
 Sylvia understood this, and loved him for it even while 
 she longed to have it otherwise. But Moor reproached 
 him for his desertion, doubly felt since the gentler ac 
 quirements made him dearer to his friend. Hating 
 all disguises, Warwick found it hard to withhold the 
 fact which was not his own to give, and, sparing no 
 blame to himself, answered Moor s playful complaint 
 with a sad sincerity that freed him from all further 
 pleadings, 
 
 " Geoffrey, I have a question to settle and you can 
 not help me. Leave it to time, and let me come and 
 go as of old, enjoying the social hour when I can, 
 llying to solitude when I must." 
 
 Much as Sylvia had longed to see these friends, she 
 counted the hours of their stay ; for the presence of 
 one was a daily disquieting, because spirits would 
 often flag, conversation fail, and an utter weariness 
 creep over her when she could least account for or 
 yield to it. More than once during that week she 
 longed to lay her head on Faith s kind bosom and ask 
 
262 MOODS. 
 
 help. Deep as was her husband s love, it did not 
 possess the soothing power of a woman s sympathy, 
 and though it cradled her as tenderly as if she had 
 been a child, Faith s compassion would have been like 
 motherly arms to fold and foster. But friendly as 
 they soon became, frank as was Faith s regard for 
 Sylvia, earnest as was Sylvia s affection for Faith, she 
 never seemed to reach that deeper place where she 
 desired to be. Always when she thought she had 
 found the innermost that each of us seek for in our 
 friend, she felt that Faith drew back, and a reserve as 
 delicate as inflexible barred her approach witli chilly 
 gentleness. This seemed so foreign to Faith s nature 
 that Sylvia pondered and grieved over it till the be 
 lief came to her that this woman, so truly excellent 
 and loveworthy, did not desire to receive her confi 
 dence, and sometimes a bitter fear assailed her that 
 Warwick was not the only reader of her secret 
 trouble. 
 
 All things have an end, and the last day came none 
 too soon for one dweller under that hospitable roof. 
 Faith refused all entreaties to stay, and looked some 
 what anxiously at Warwick as Moor turned from her 
 self to him with the same urgency. 
 
 " Adam, you will stay ? Promise me another 
 week?" 
 
 " I never promise, Geoffrey." 
 
 Believing that, as no denial came, his request was 
 granted, Moor gave his whole attention to Faith, who 
 was to leave them in an hour. 
 
IN THE TWILIGHT. 263 
 
 " Sylvia, while I help our cousin to select and fasten 
 up the books she likes to take with her, will you fill 
 your prettiest basket with flowers ? Servants should 
 not perform these pleasant services for one s best 
 friends." 
 
 Glad to be away, Sylvia went into the conservatory, 
 and was standing in a corner trimming her basket with 
 ferns when Warwick s step approached. He did not 
 see her, nor seem intent on following her ; he walked 
 slowly, hat in hand, so slowly that he was midway 
 down the leafy lane when Faith s voice arrested him. 
 She was in haste, as her hurried step and almost 
 breathless words betrayed ; and, losing not an instant, 
 she said before they met, 
 
 " Adam, you will come with me ? I cannot leave 
 you here." 
 
 " Do you doubt me, Faith ? " 
 
 " No ; but loving women are so weak." 
 
 " So strong, you mean \ men are weakest when they 
 love." 
 
 " Adam, will you come ? " 
 
 " I will follow you ; I shall speak with Geoffrey 
 first." 
 
 " Must you tell him so soon ? " 
 
 " I must." 
 
 Faith s hand had been on Warwick s arm ; as he 
 spoke the last words she looked up at him for an 
 instant, then without another word turned and hur 
 ried back as rapidly as she had come, while Warwick 
 stood where she left him, motionless as if buried in 
 some absorbing thought. 
 
264 MOODS. 
 
 All had passed in a moment, a moment too short, 
 too full of intense surprise, to leave Sylvia time for 
 recollection and betrayal of her presence. Half hid 
 den and wholly unobserved, she had seen the un 
 wonted agitation of Faith s countenance and manner, 
 had heard Warwick s softly spoken answers to those 
 eager appeals, and with a great pang had discovered 
 that some tender confidence existed between these two 
 of which she had never dreamed. Sudden as the 
 discovery was its acceptance and belief; for, knowing 
 her own weakness, Sylvia found something like relief 
 in the hope that a new happiness for Warwick had 
 ended all temptation, and in time all pain for herself. 
 Impulsive as ever, she leaned upon the seeming truth, 
 and, making of the fancy a fact, passed into a perfect 
 passion of self-abnegation, thinking, in the brief pause 
 that followed Faith s departure, 
 
 " This is the change we see in him ; this made him 
 watch me, hoping I had forgotten, as I once said and 
 believed. I should be glad, I will be glad, and let 
 him see that even while I suffer I can rejoice in that 
 which helps us both." 
 
 Full of her generous purpose, yet half doubtful 
 how to execute it, Sylvia stepped from the recess 
 where she had stood, and slowly passed toward War 
 wick, apparently intent on settling her flowery burden 
 as she went. At the first sound of her light step on 
 the walk he turned, feeling at once that she must 
 have heard, and eager to learn what significance that 
 short dialogue possessed for her. Only a hasty glance 
 
IN THE TWILIGHT. 265 
 
 did she give him as she came, but it showed him 
 flushed cheeks, excited eyes, and lips a little tremu 
 lous as they said, 
 
 "These are for Faith; will you hold the basket 
 while I cover it with leaves ? " 
 
 He took it and as the first green covering was deftly 
 laid, he asked, below his breath, 
 
 " Sylvia, did you hear us ? " 
 
 To his unutterable amazement she looked up 
 clearly, and all her heart was in her voice, as she 
 answered with a fervency he could not doubt, 
 
 " Yes ; and I was glad to hear, to know that a 
 nobler woman filled the place I cannot fill. Oh, be 
 lieve it, Adam ! and be sure that the knowledge of 
 your happiness will lighten the terrible regret which 
 you have seen as nothing else ever could have done." 
 
 Down fell the basket at their feet, and, taking her 
 face between his hands, Warwick bent and searched 
 with a glance that seemed to penetrate to her heart s 
 core. For a moment she struggled to escape, but the 
 grasp that held her was immovable. She tried to 
 oppose a steadfast front and baffle that perilous inspec 
 tion, but quick and deep rushed the traitorous color 
 over cheek and forehead with its mute betrayal. She 
 tried to turn her eyes away, but those other eyes, dark 
 and dilated with intensity of purpose, fixed her own, 
 and the confronting countenance wore an expression 
 which made its familiar features look awfully large 
 and grand to her panic-stricken sight. A sense of 
 utter helplessness fell on her, courage deserted her, 
 
266 MOODS. 
 
 pride changed to fear, defiance to despair; as the 
 flush faded, the fugitive glance was arrested and the 
 upturned face became a pale blank, ready to receive 
 the answer that strong scrutiny was slowly bringing 
 to the light, as invisible characters start out upon a 
 page when fire passes over them. Neither spoke, but 
 soon through all opposing barriers the magnetism of 
 an indomitable will drew forth the truth, set free the 
 captive passion pent so long, and wrung from those 
 reluctant lineaments a full confession of his power 
 and her weakness. 
 
 The instant this assurance was his own beyond a 
 doubt, Warwick released her, snatched up his hat, and, 
 hurrying down the path, vanished in the wood. 
 Spent as with an hour s excitement, and bewildered 
 by emotions which she could no longer master, Sylvia 
 lingered in the fern-walk till her husband called her. 
 Then, hastily refilling her basket, she shook her hair 
 about her face and went to bid Faith good-by. Moor 
 was to accompany her to the city, and they left early, 
 that Faith might pause for adieux to Max and 
 Prudence. 
 
 " Where is Adam ? Has he gone before, or been 
 inveigled into staying ? " 
 
 Moor spoke to Sylvia ; but, busied in fastening the 
 basket-lid, she seemed not to hear, and Faith replied 
 for her, 
 
 " He will take a later boat, we need not wait for 
 him." 
 
 When Faith embraced Sylvia, all the coldness had 
 
IN THE TWILIGHT. 267 
 
 melted from her manner, and her voice was tender as 
 a mother s as she whispered low in her ear, 
 
 "Dear child, if ever you need any help that 
 Geoffrey cannot give, remember Cousin Faith." 
 
 For two hours Sylvia sat alone, not idle, for in the 
 first real solitude she had enjoyed for seven days, she 
 looked deeply into herself, and putting by all disguises 
 owned the truth, and resolved to repair the past if 
 possible, as Faith had counselled in the case which 
 she had now made her own. Like so many of us, 
 Sylvia often saw her errors too late to avoid commit 
 ting them, and, failing to do the right thing at the 
 right moment, kept herself forever in arrears with that 
 creditor who must inevitably be satisfied. She had 
 been coming to this decision all that weary week, and 
 these quiet hours left her both resolute and resigned. 
 
 As she sat there while the early twilight began to 
 gather, her eye often turned to Warwick s travelling- 
 bag, which Faith, having espied it ready in his cham 
 ber, had brought down and laid in the library, as a 
 reminder of her wish. As she looked at it, Sylvia s 
 h^art yearned toward it in the fond, foolish way which 
 women have of endowing the possessions of those they 
 love with the attractions of sentient things, and a por 
 tion of their owner s character or claim upon them 
 selves. It was like Warwick, simple and strong, no 
 key, and every mark of the long use which had tested 
 its capabilities and proved them durable. A pair of 
 gloves lay beside it on the chair, and though she 
 longed to touch anything of his, she resisted the temp- 
 
268 MOODS. 
 
 tation till, pausing near them in one of her journeys 
 to the window, she saw a rent in the glove that lay 
 uppermost, that appeal was irresistible, "Poor 
 Adam ! there has been no one to care for him so long, 
 and Faith does not yet know how ; surely I may per 
 form so small a service for him if he never knows how 
 tenderly I do it ? " 
 
 Standing ready to drop her work at a sound, Sylvia 
 snatched a brief satisfaction which solaced her more 
 than an hour of idle lamentation, and as she put down 
 the glove with eyes that dimly saw where it should 
 be, perhaps there went as much real love and sorrow 
 into that little act as ever glorified some greater deed. 
 Then she went to lie in the " Eefuge," as she had 
 named the ancient chair, with her head on its embrac 
 ing arm. Not weeping, but quietly watching the 
 flicker of the fire, which filled the room with warm 
 duskiness, making the twilight doubly pleasant, till 
 a sudden blaze leaped up, showing her that her watch 
 was over, and Warwick come. She had not heard him 
 enter, but there he was, close before her, his face 
 glowing with the frosty air, his eye clear and kind, 
 and in his aspect that nameless charm which won for 
 him the confidence of whosoever read his countenance. 
 Scarce knowing why, Sylvia felt reassured that all 
 was well, and looked up with more welcome in her 
 heart than she dared betray in words. 
 
 " Come at last ! where have you been so long, 
 Adam?" 
 
 " Bound the Island, I suspect, for I lost my way, 
 
IN THE TWILIGHT. 269 
 
 and had no guide but instinct to lead me home again. 
 I like to say that word, for though it is not home it 
 seems so to me now. May I sit here before I go, and 
 warm myself at your fire, Sylvia ? " 
 
 Sure of his answer he established himself in the 
 low lounging-chair beside her, stretched his hands to 
 the grateful blaze, and went on with some inward res 
 olution lending its power and depth to his voice. 
 
 " I had a question to settle with myself and went to 
 find my best counsellors in the wood. Often when I 
 am harassed by some perplexity or doubt to which 
 I can find no wise or welcome answer, I walk myself 
 into a belief that it will come ; then it appears. I 
 stoop to break a handsome flower, to pick up a cone, 
 or watch some little creature happier than I, and there 
 lies my answer, like a good luck penny, ready to my 
 hand." 
 
 "Faith has gone, but Geoffrey hopes to keep you 
 for another week," said Sylvia, ignoring one unsafe 
 topic for another. 
 
 " Shall he have his wish ? " 
 
 " Faith expects you to follow her." 
 
 " And you think I ought ? " 
 
 " I think you will." 
 
 " When does the next boat leave ? " 
 
 An hour hence." 
 
 " I 11 wait for it here. Did I wake you coming in ? " 
 
 " I was not asleep ; only lazy, warm, and quiet." 
 
 " And deadly tired ; dear soul, how can it be oth 
 erwise, leading the life you lead ! " 
 
270 MOODS. 
 
 There was such compassion in his voice, such affec 
 tion in his eye, such fostering kindliness in the touch 
 of the hand he laid upon her own, that Sylvia cried 
 within herself, " Oh, if Geoffrey would only come ! " 
 and, hoping for that help to save her from herself, she 
 hastily replied, 
 
 " You are mistaken, Adam, my life is easier than 
 I deserve, I am very " 
 
 " Miserable, the truth to me, Sylvia." 
 
 Warwick rose as he spoke, closed the door, and 
 came back wearing an expression which caused her to 
 start up with a gesture of entreaty, 
 
 " No, no, I will not hear you ! Adam, you must not 
 speak ! " 
 
 He paused opposite her, leaving a little space be 
 tween them, which he did not cross through all that 
 followed, and with that look, inflexible yet pitiful, he 
 answered steadily, 
 
 " I must speak and you will hear me. But under 
 stand me, Sylvia, I desire and design no French sen 
 timent nor sin like that we heard of, and what I say 
 now I would say if Geoffrey stood between us. I ask 
 nothing for myself. I have settled this point after 
 long thought and the heartiest prayers I ever prayed ; 
 but you have much at stake and I speak for your sake, 
 not my own. Therefore do not entreat nor delay, but 
 listen and let me show you the wrong you are doing 
 yourself, your husband, and your friend." 
 
 " D6es Faith know all the past ? does she desire 
 you to do this that her happiness may be secure ? " 
 demanded Sylvia. 
 
IN THE TWILIGHT. 271 
 
 " Faith is no more to me, nor I to Faith, than the 
 friendliest regard can make us. She suspected that 
 I loved you long ago ; she now believes that you love 
 me ; she pities her cousin tenderly, but will not med 
 dle with the tangle we have made of our three lives. 
 But I believe that secrets kill, the truth alone can 
 save and heal ; so let me speak. When we parted I 
 thought that you loved Geoffrey ; so did you. When 
 I came here I was sure of it for a day ; but on that 
 second night I saw your face as you stood here alone, 
 and then I knew what I have since assured myself of. 
 God knows, I think my gain dearly purchased by his 
 loss. I see your double trial ; I know the tribula 
 tions in store for all of us ; yet as an honest man, I 
 must speak out, because you ought not to delude your 
 self or Geoffrey another day." 
 
 " What right have you to come between us and de 
 cide my duty, Adam ? " Sylvia spoke passionately, 
 roused to resistance by his manner and the turmoil of 
 emotions warring within her. 
 
 " The right of a sane man to save the woman he 
 loves from destroying her own peace forever, and un 
 dermining the confidence of the friend dearest to them 
 both. I know this is not the world s way in such 
 matters ; but I care not ; because I believe one human 
 creature has a right to speak to another in times like 
 these, as if they two stood alone. I will not command, 
 I will appeal to you, and if you are the candid soul I 
 think you, your own words shall prove the truth of 
 what I say. Sylvia, do you love your husband?" 
 
272 "^ MOODS. 
 
 11 Yes, Adam, dearly." 
 
 " More than you love me ? " 
 
 "I wish I did! I wish I did!" 
 
 " Are you happy with him ? " 
 
 " I was till you came ; I shall be when you are 
 gone." 
 
 " It is impossible to go back to the blind tranquillity 
 you once enjoyed. Now a single duty lies before you ; 
 delay is weak, deceit is wicked ; utter sincerity alone 
 can help us. Tell Geoffrey all ; then whether you live 
 your life alone, or stay with him, there is no false 
 dealing to repent of, and looking the hard fact in the 
 face robs it of one half its terrors. Will you do this, 
 Sylvia?" 
 
 " No, Adam. Eemember what he said that night : 
 I love but few, and those few are my world, I am 
 chief in that world ; shall I destroy it, for my selfish 
 pleasure ? He waited for me very long, is waiting still ; 
 can I for a second time disappoint the patient heart 
 that would find it easier to give up life than the poor 
 possession which I am ? No, I ought not, dare not do 
 it yet." 
 
 " If you dare not speak the truth to your friend, you 
 do not deserve him, and the name is a lie. You ask 
 me to remember what he said that night, I ask you 
 to recall the look with which he begged you not to 
 try him too hardly. Put it to yourself, which is 
 the kinder justice, a full confession now, or a late one 
 hereafter, when longer subterfuge has made it harder 
 for you to offer, bitterer for him to receive ? I tell 
 
IN THE TWILIGHT. 273 
 
 you, Sylvia, it were more merciful to murder him out 
 right than to slowly wear away his faith, his peace, 
 arid love by a vain endeavor to perform as a duty 
 what should be your sweetest pleasure, and what will 
 soon become a burden heavier than you can bear." 
 
 " You do not see as I see ; you cannot understand 
 what I am to him, nor can 1 tell you what he is to me. 
 It is not as if I could dislike or despise him for any 
 un worthiness of his own ; nor as if lie were a lover 
 only. Then I could do much which now is worse 
 than impossible, for I have married him, and it is too 
 late." 
 
 " Sylvia ! why could you not have waited ? " 
 
 " Why ? Because I am what I am, too easily led 
 by circumstances, too entirely possessed by whatever 
 hope, belief, or fear rules me for the hour. Give me 
 a steadfast nature like your own and I will be as 
 strong. I know I am weak, but I am not wilfully 
 wicked ; and when I ask you to be silent, it is because 
 I want to save him from the pain of doubt, and try to 
 teach myself to love him as I should. I must have 
 time, but I can bear much and endeavor more per 
 sistently than you believe. If I forgot you once, can 
 I not again ? and should I not ? I am all in all to 
 him, while you, so strong, so self-reliant, can do with 
 out my love as you have done till now, and will soon 
 outlive your sorrow for the loss of that which might 
 have made us happy had I been more patient." 
 
 " Yes, I shall outlive it, else I should have little 
 faith in myself. But I shall not forget ; and if you 
 
 18 
 
274 MOODS. 
 
 would remain forever what you now are to me, you 
 will so act that nothing may mar this memory, since 
 it can be no more. I doubt your power to forget an 
 affection which has survived so many changes and 
 withstood assaults such as Geoffrey must uncon 
 sciously have made upon it. But I have no right to 
 condemn your beliefs, to o rder your actions, or force 
 you to accept my code of morals if you are not ready 
 for it. You must decide, but do not again deceive 
 yourself, and through whatever comes, hold fast to 
 that which is better worth preserving than husband, 
 happiness, or friend, truth." 
 
 His words fell cold on Sylvia s ear, for with the in 
 consistency of a woman s heart she thought he gave 
 her up too readily, yet honored him more truly for 
 sacrificing both himself and her to the principle that 
 ruled his life arid made him what he was. His seem 
 ing resignation steadied her, for now he waited her 
 decision, while before he was only bent on executing 
 the purpose wherein he believed salvation lay. She 
 girded up her strength, collected her thoughts, and 
 tried to show him what she believed to be her duty. 
 
 " Let me tell you how it is with me, Adam, and be 
 patient if I am not wise and brave like you, but far 
 too young, too ignorant, to bear such troubles well. 
 I am not leaning on my own judgment now, but on 
 Faith s, and though you do not love her as I hoped, 
 you feel she is one to trust. She said the wife, in 
 that fictitious case which was so real to us, the wife 
 should leave no effort unmade, no self-denial unex- 
 
IN THE TWILIGHT. 275 
 
 acted, till she had fairly proved that she could not be 
 what she had promised. Then, and then only, had 
 she a right to undo the tie that had bound her. I 
 must do this before I think of your love or my own, 
 for on my marriage morning I made a vow within 
 myself that Geoffrey s happiness should be the first 
 duty of my life. I shall keep that vow as sacredly as 
 I will those I made before the world, until I find that 
 it is utterly beyond my power, then I will break all 
 together." 
 
 " You have tried that once, and failed." 
 " ]STo, I have never tried it as I shall now. At first, 
 I did not know the truth, then I was afraid to believe, 
 and struggled blindly to forget. Now I see clearly, 
 I confess it, I resolve to conquer it, and I will not 
 yield until I have done my best. You say you must 
 respect me. Could you do so if I no longer respected 
 myself ? I should not, if I forgot all Geoffrey had 
 borne and clone for me, and could not bear and do 
 this thing for him. I must make the effort, and make 
 it silently; for he is very proud with all his. gentle 
 ness, and would reject the seeming sacrifice though 
 he would make one doubly hard for love of me. If 
 I am to stay with him, it spares him the bitterest 
 pain he could suffer ; if I am to go, it gives him a 
 few more months of happiness, and I may so prepare 
 him that the parting will be less hard. How others 
 would act I cannot tell, I only know that this seems 
 right to me ; and I must fight my fight alone, even if 
 I die in doing it." 
 
276 MOODS. 
 
 She was so earnest, yet so humble ; so weak in all 
 but the desire to do well ; so young to be tormented 
 with such fateful issues, and withal so steadfast in the 
 grateful yet remorseful tenderness she bore her hus 
 band, that though sorely disappointed and not one 
 whit convinced, Warwick could only submit to this 
 woman-hearted child, and love her with redoubled 
 love, both for what she was and what she aspired 
 to be. 
 
 " Sylvia, what can I do to help you ? " 
 
 "You must go away, Adam; because when you 
 are near me my will is swayed by yours, and what 
 you desire I long to do. Go quite away, and 
 through Faith you may learn whether I succeed or 
 fail. It is hard to say this, yet you know it is a 
 truer hospitality in me to send you from my door 
 than to detain and offer you temptation for your daily 
 bread." 
 
 It was hard to submit ; for though he asked nothing 
 for himself, he longed intensely to share in some way 
 the burden that he could not lighten. 
 
 "Ah, Sylvia ! I thought that parting on the moun 
 tain was the hardest I could ever know, but this is 
 harder; for now I know I have but to say Come to 
 me ! and you would come." 
 
 But the bitter moment had its drop of honey, whose 
 sweetness nourished him when all else failed. Sylvia 
 answered with a perfect confidence in that integrity 
 which even her own longing could not bribe, 
 
 " Yes, Adam, but you will not say it, because, feel 
 ing as I feel, you know I must not come to you." 
 
IN THE TWILIGHT. 277 
 
 He did know it, and confessed his submission by 
 folding fast the arms half opened for her, and stand 
 ing dumb with the words trembling on his lips. It 
 was the bravest action of a life full of real valor, for 
 the sacrifice was not made with more than human 
 fortitude. The man s heart clamored for its right, 
 patience was weary, hope despaired, and all natural 
 instincts mutinied against the command that bound 
 them. But no grain of virtue ever falls wasted to the 
 ground; it drops back upon its giver a regathered 
 strength, and cannot fail of its reward in some kindred 
 soul s approval, imitation, or delight. It was so then, 
 as Sylvia went to him ; for though she did not touch 
 nor smile upon him, he felt her nearness ; and the 
 parting assured him that its power bound them closer 
 than the happiest union. In her face there shone a 
 look half fervent, half devout, and her voice had no 
 falter in it now. 
 
 " You show me what I should be. All my life I 
 have desired strength of heart and stability of soul ; 
 may I not hope to earn for myself a little of the in 
 tegrity I love in you ? If courage, self-denial, and 
 self-help make you what you are, can I have a more 
 effectual guide ? You say you shall outlive this 
 passion; why should not I imitate your brave ex 
 ample, and find the consolations you shall find ? O 
 Adam, let me try." 
 
 " You shall." 
 
 " Then go ; go now, while I can say it as I should." 
 
 " The good Lord bless and help you, Sylvia." 
 
278 ) MOODS. 
 
 She gave him both her hands, but though he only 
 pressed them silently, that pressure nearly destroyed 
 the victory she had won ; for the strong grasp snapped 
 the slender guard-ring Moor had given her a week 
 ago. She heard it drop with a golden tinkle on the 
 hearth, saw the dark oval, with its doubly significant 
 character, roll into the ashes, and felt Warwick s hold 
 tighten as if he echoed the emphatic word uttered 
 when the ineffectual gift was first bestowed. Super 
 stition flowed in Sylvia s blood, and was as uncon 
 querable as the imagination which supplied its food. 
 This omen startled her. It seemed a forewarning 
 that endeavor would be vain, that submission was 
 wisdom, and that the husband s charm had lost its 
 virtue when the stronger power claimed her. The 
 desire to resist began to waver as the old passionate 
 longing sprang up more eloquent than ever ; she felt the 
 rush of a coming impulse, knew that it would sweep 
 her into Warwick s arms, there to forget her duty, to 
 forfeit his respect. With the last effort of a sorely 
 tried spirit she tore her hands away, fled up to the 
 room which had never needed lock or key till now, 
 and stifling the sound of those departing steps among 
 the cushions of the couch where she had already 
 hidden many tears, she struggled with the great sorrow 
 of her too early womanhood, uttering with broken 
 voice that petition oftenest quoted from the one prayer 
 which expresses all our needs, 
 
 "Lead me not into temptation, but deliver me 
 from evil." 
 
ASLEEP AND AWAKE. 279 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 ASLEEP AND AWAKE. 
 
 MARCH winds were howling round the house, 
 the clock was striking two, the library lamp 
 still burned, and Moor sat writing with an anxious 
 face. Occasionally he paused to look backward 
 through the leaves of the book in which he wrote ; 
 sometimes he sat with suspended pen, thinking 
 deeply ; and once or twice he laid it down, to press 
 his hand over eyes more weary than the mind that 
 compelled them to this late service. 
 
 Returning to his work after one of these pauses, he 
 was a little startled to -see Sylvia standing on the 
 threshold of the door. Rising hastily to ask if she 
 were ill, he stopped half-way across the room, for, 
 vith a thrill of apprehe nsion and surprise, he saw 
 that she was asleep. Her eyes were open, fixed, and 
 vacant, her face reposeful, her breathing regular, and 
 every sense apparently wrapped in the profoundest 
 unconsciousness. Fearful of awakening her too sud 
 denly, Moor stood motionless, yet full of interest, for 
 this was his first experience of somnambulism, and it 
 was a strange, almost an awful sight, to witness the 
 blind obedience of the body to the soul that ruled it. 
 
 For several minutes she remained where she first 
 
280 MOODS. 
 
 appeared. Then, as if the dream demanded action, 
 she stooped, and seemed to take some object from a 
 chair beside the door, held it an instant, kissed it 
 softly and laid it down. Slowly and steadily she 
 went across the room, avoiding all obstacles with the 
 unerring instinct that often leads the sleep-walker 
 through dangers that appall his waking eyes, and sat 
 down in the great chair he had left, leaned her cheek 
 upon its arm, and rested tranquilly for several minutes. 
 Soon the dream disturbed her, and, lifting her head, 
 she bent forward, as if addressing or caressing some 
 one seated at her feet. Involuntarily her husband 
 smiled ; for often when they were alone he sat there 
 reading or talking to her, while she played with his 
 hair, likening its brown abundance to young Shelley s 
 curling locks in the picture overhead. The smile had 
 hardly risen when it was scared away ; for Sylvia 
 suddenly sprang up with both hands out, crying in a 
 voice that rent the silence with its imploring en 
 ergy, 
 
 " No, no, you must not *speak ! I will not hear 
 you!" 
 
 Her own cry woke her. Consciousness and mem 
 ory returned together, and her face whitened with a 
 look of terror, as her bewildered eyes showed her not 
 Warwick, but her husband. This look, so full of 
 fear, yet so intelligent, startled Moor more than the 
 apparition or the cry had done, for a conviction flashed 
 into his mind that some unsuspected trouble had 
 been burdening Sylvia, and was now finding vent 
 
ASLEEP AND AWAKE. 281 
 
 against her will. Anxious to possess himself of the 
 truth, and bent on doing so, he veiled his purpose for 
 a time, letting his unchanged manner reassure and 
 compose her. 
 
 " Dear child, don t look so lost and wild. You are 
 quite safe, and have only been wandering in your 
 sleep. Why, Lady Macbeth, have you murdered 
 some one, that you go crying out in this uncanny 
 way, frightening me as much as I seem to have 
 frightened you ? " 
 
 "I have murdered sleep. What did I do? what 
 did I say ? " she asked, trembling and shrinking as 
 she dropped into her chair. 
 
 Hoping to quiet her, he took his place on the low 
 seat, and told her what had passed. At first, she lis 
 tened with a divided mind, for so strongly was she 
 still impressed with the vividness of the dream, she 
 half expected Warwick to rise like Banquo, and claim 
 the seat that a single occupancy seemed to have made 
 his own. An expression of intense relief replaced 
 t iat of fear, when she had heard all, and she composed 
 herself with the knowledge that her secret was still 
 hers. For, dreary bosom-guest as it was, she had not 
 yet resolved to end her trial. 
 
 " What set you walking, Sylvia ? " 
 
 " I recollect hearing the clock strike one, and 
 thinking I would come down to see what you were 
 doing so late, but must have dropped off and carried 
 out my design asleep. You see I put on wrapper and 
 slippers as I always do when I take nocturnal rambles 
 
282 MOODS. 
 
 awake. How pleasant the fire feels, and how cosey 
 you look here ; no wonder you like to stay and enjoy 
 it." 
 
 She leaned forward, warming her hands in uncon 
 scious imitation of Adam, on the night which she had 
 been recalling before she slept. Moor watched her 
 with increasing disquiet ; for never had he seen her 
 in a mood like this. She evaded his question, she 
 averted her eyes, she half hid her face, and with a ges 
 ture that of late had grown habitual, seemed to try to 
 hide her heart. Often had she baffled him, sometimes 
 grieved him, but never before showed that she feared 
 him. This wounded both his love and pride, and this 
 fixed his resolution to wring from her an explanation 
 of the changes which had passed over her during those 
 winter months, for they had been many and mysteri 
 ous. As if she feared silence, Sylvia soon spoke again. 
 
 " Why are you up so late ? This is not the first 
 time I have seen your lamp burning when I woke. 
 What are you studying so deeply ? " 
 
 " My wife." 
 
 Leaning on the arm of her chair, he looked up wist 
 fully, tenderly, as if inviting confidence, suing for 
 affection. The words, the look, smote Sylvia to the 
 heart, and but for the thought, " I have not tried long 
 enough," she would have uttered the confession that 
 leaped to her lips. Once spoken, it would be too late 
 for secret effort or success, and this man s happiest 
 hopes would vanish in a breath. Knowing that his 
 nature was almost as sensitively fastidious as a 
 
ASLEEP AND AWAKE. 283 
 
 woman s, she also knew that the discovery of her 
 love for Adam, innocent as it had been, self-denying 
 as it tried to be, would mar the beauty of his wedded 
 life for Moor. No hour of it would seem sacred, no 
 act, look, or word of hers entirely his own, nor any of 
 the dear delights of home remain undarkened by the 
 shadow of his friend. She could not speak yet, and, 
 turning her eyes to the fire, she asked, 
 
 " Why study me ? Have you no better book ? " 
 " None that I love to read so well or have such 
 need to understand; because, though nearest and 
 dearest as you are to me, I seem to know you less 
 than any friend I have. I do not wish to wound you, 
 dear, nor be exacting ; but since we were married you 
 have grown more shy than ever, and the act which 
 should have drawn us tenderly together seems to have 
 estranged us. You never talk now of yourself, or ask 
 me to explain the working of that busy mind of yours ; 
 and lately you have sometimes shunned me, as if soli 
 tude were pleasanter than my society. Is it, Sylvia ? " 
 Sometimes ; I always liked to be alone, you know." 
 She answered as truly as she could, feeling that his 
 love demanded every confidence but the one cruel one 
 which would destroy its peace past help. 
 
 " I knew I had a most tenacious heart, but I hoped 
 it was not a selfish one," he sorrowfully said. " Now 
 I see that it is, and deeply regret that my hopeful 
 spirit, my impatient love, has brought disappointment 
 to us both. I should have waited longer, should have 
 been less confident of my own power to win you, and 
 
284 MOODS. 
 
 never let you waste your life in vain endeavors to be 
 happy when I was not all to you that you expected. 
 I should not have consented to your wish to spend 
 the winter here so much alone with me. I should 
 have known that such a quiet home and studious com 
 panion could not have many charms for a young girl 
 like you. Forgive me, I will do better, and this one 
 sided life of ours shall be changed ; for while I have 
 been happy you have been miserable." 
 
 It was impossible to deny it, and with a tearless 
 sob she laid her arm about his neck, her head on his 
 shoulder, and mutely confessed the truth of what he 
 said. The trouble deepened in his face, but he spoke 
 out more cheerfully, believing that he had found the 
 secret sorrow. 
 
 " Thank heaven, nothing is past mending ; and we 
 will yet be happy. An entire change shall be made ; 
 you shall no longer devote yourself to me, but I to 
 you. Will you go abroad, and forget this dismal 
 home until its rest grows inviting, Sylvia ? " 
 
 " No, Geoffrey, not yet. I will learn to make the 
 home pleasant, I will work harder, and leave no time 
 for ennui and discontent. I promised to make your 
 happiness, and I can do it better here than anywhere. 
 Let me try again." 
 
 " No, Sylvia, you work too hard already ; you do 
 everything with such vehemence you wear out your 
 body before your will is weary, and that brings mel 
 ancholy. I am very credulous, but when I see that 
 acts belie words I cease to believe. These months 
 
ASLEEP AND AWAKE. 285 
 
 assure me that you are not happy ; have I found the 
 secret thorn that frets you ? " 
 
 She did not answer, for truth she could not, and 
 falsehood she would not, give him. He rose, went 
 walking to and fro, searching memory, heart, and con 
 science for any other cause, but found none, and saw 
 only one way out of his bewilderment. He drew a 
 chair before her, sat down, and, looking at her with 
 the masterful expression dominant in his face, asked 
 briefly, 
 
 " Sylvia, have I been tyrannical, unjust, unkind, 
 since you came to me ? " 
 
 " Geoffrey, too generous, too just, too tender ! " 
 
 " Have I claimed any rights but those you gave me ? 
 entreated or demanded any sacrifices knowingly and 
 wilfully ? " 
 
 " Never." 
 
 " Now I do claim my right to know your heart ; I 
 do entreat and demand one thing, your confidence." 
 
 Then she felt that the hour had come, and tried to 
 prepare to meet it as she should by remembering, that 
 she had endeavored prayerfully, desperately, despair 
 ingly, to do her duty, and had failed. Warwick was 
 right, she could not forget him. There was such vi 
 tality in the man and in the sentiment he inspired, 
 that it endowed his memory with a power more po 
 tent than the visible presence of her husband. The 
 knowledge of his love now undid the work that igno 
 rance had helped patience and pride to achieve before. 
 Once she had held the secret, now it held her ; the 
 
286 MOODS. 
 
 hidden wound was poisoning her life, and tempting 
 her to escape by thoughts of death. Now she saw the 
 wisdom of Adam s warning, and felt that he knew 
 both his friend s heart and her own better than her 
 self. Now she bitterly regretted that she had not 
 spoken out when he was there to help her, and before 
 the least deceit had taken the dignity from sorrow. 
 Nevertheless, though she trembled she resolved ; and 
 while Moor spoke on, she made ready to atone for 
 past silence by a perfect loyalty to truth. 
 
 " My wife, concealment is not generosity, for the 
 heaviest trouble shared together could not so take the 
 sweetness from my life, the charm from home, or 
 make me more miserable than this want of confidence. 
 It is a double wrong, because you not only mar my 
 peace but destroy your own by wasting health and 
 happiness in vain endeavors to bear some grief alone. 
 Your eye seldom meets mine now, your words are 
 measured, your actions cautious, your innocent gayety 
 all gone. You hide your heart from me, you hide 
 your face ; I seem to have lost the frank girl whom I 
 loved, and found a melancholy woman, who suffers 
 silently till her honest nature rebels, and brings her 
 to confession in her sleep. There is no page of my 
 life which I have not freely shown you ; do I not de 
 serve an equal candor ? Shall I not receive it ? " 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
 " Sylvia, what stands between us ? " 
 
 " Adam Warwick." 
 
 Earnest as a prayer, brief as a command, had been 
 
ASLEEP AND AWAKE. 287 
 
 the question ; instantaneous was the reply, as Sylvia 
 knelt down before him, put back the veil that should 
 never hide her from him any more, looked up into her 
 husband s face without one shadow in her own, and 
 steadily told all. 
 
 The revelation was too utterly unexpected, too diffi 
 cult of belief, to be at once accepted or understood. 
 Moor started at the name, then leaned forward, breath 
 less and intent, as if to seize the words before they 
 left her lips ; words that recalled incidents and acts 
 dark and unmeaning till the spark of intelligence fired 
 a long train of memories and enlightened him with 
 terrible rapidity. Blinded by his own devotion and 
 the knowledge of Adam s character, the thought that 
 he loved Sylvia never had occurred to him, and seemed 
 incredible even when her own lips told it. She had 
 been right in fearing the effect this knowledge would 
 have upon him. It stung his pride, wounded his 
 heart, and for a time at least marred his faith in love 
 and friendship. As the truth broke over him, cold 
 ^and bitter as a billow of the sea, she saw gathering in 
 his face the still white grief and indignation of an 
 outraged spirit, suffering with all a woman s pain, 
 with all a man s intensity of passion. His eye grew 
 fiery and stern, the veins rose dark upon his forehead, 
 the lines about the mouth showed hard and grim, the 
 whole face altered terribly. As she looked, Sylvia 
 thanked heaven that Warwick was not there to feel 
 the sudden atonement for an innocent offence which 
 his friend might have exacted before this natural 
 temptation had passed by. 
 
2SL MOODS. 
 
 \ 
 
 -^"ow I have given all my confidence, though I may 
 have broken both our hearts in doing it. I do not 
 hope for pardon yet, but I am sure of pity, and I leave 
 my fate in your hands. Geoffrey, what shall I do ? " 
 
 " Wait for me." And, putting her away, Moor left 
 the room. 
 
 Suffering too much in mind to remember that she 
 had a body, Sylvia remained where she was, and lean 
 ing her head upon her hands tried to recall what had 
 passed, to nerve herself for what was to come. Her 
 first sensation was one of unutterable relief. The 
 long struggle was over ; the haunting care was gone ; 
 there was nothing now to conceal ; she might be her 
 self again, and her spirit rose with something of its 
 old elasticity as the heavy burden was removed. A 
 moment she enjoyed this hard-won freedom ; then the 
 memory that the burden was not lost, but laid on other 
 shoulders, filled her with an anguish too sharp to find 
 vent in tears, too deep to leave any hope of cure 
 except in action. But how act ? She had performed 
 the duty so long, so vainly delayed, and when the first- 
 glow of satisfaction passed, found redoubled anxiety, 
 regret, and pain before her. Clear and hard the truth 
 stood there, and no power of hers could recall the 
 words that showed it to her husband, could give them 
 back the early blindness, or the later vicissitudes of 
 hope and fear. In the long silence that filled the 
 room she had time to calm her perturbation and com 
 fort her remorse by the vague but helpful belief which 
 seldom deserts sanguine spirits, that something, as yet 
 
ASLEEP AND AWAKE. 289 
 
 unseen and unsuspected, would appear to heal the 
 breach, to show what was to be done, and to make all 
 happy in the end. 
 
 Where Moor went or how long he stayed Sylvia 
 never knew, but when at length he came, her first 
 glance showed her that pride is as much to be dreaded 
 as passion. No gold is without alloy, and now she 
 saw the shadow of a nature which had seemed all 
 sunshine. She knew he was very proud, but never 
 thought to be the cause of its saddest manifestation : 
 one which showed her that its presence could make 
 the silent sorrow of a just and gentle man a harder 
 trial to sustain than the hottest anger, the bitterest 
 reproach. Scarcely paler than when he went, there 
 was no sign of violent emotion in his countenance. 
 His eye shone keen and dark, an anxious fold crossed 
 his forehead, and a melancholy gravity replaced the 
 cheerful serenity his face once wore. Wherein the 
 alteration lay Sylvia could not tell, but over the whole 
 man some subtle change had passed. The sudden 
 frost which had blighted the tenderest affection of his 
 life seemed to have left its chill behind, robbing his 
 manner of its cordial charm, his voice of its heartsome 
 ring, and giving him the look of one who sternly 
 said, " I must suffer, but it shall be alone." 
 
 Cold and quiet, he stood regarding her with a 
 strange expression, as if endeavoring to realize the 
 truth, and see in her not his wife but Warwick s 
 lover. Oppressed by the old fear, now augmented by 
 a measureless regret, she could only look up at him, 
 
 19 
 
290 MOODS. 
 
 feeling that her husband had become her judge. Yet 
 as she looked she was conscious of a momentary won 
 der at the seeming transposition of character in the 
 two so near and dear to her. Strong-hearted Warwick 
 wept like any child, but accepted his disappointment 
 without complaint and bore it manfully. Moor, from 
 whom she would sooner have expected such demon 
 stration, grew stormy first, then stern, as she once be 
 lieved his friend would have done. She forgot that 
 Moor s pain was the sharper, his wound the deeper, 
 for the patient hope cherished so long ; the knowl 
 edge that he never had been loved as he loved ; the 
 sense of wrong that could not but burn even in the 
 meekest heart at such a late discovery, such an entire 
 loss. 
 
 Sylvia spoke first, not audibly, but with a little ges 
 ture of supplication, a glance of sorrowful submission. 
 He answered both, not by lamentation or reproach, 
 but by just enough of his accustomed tenderness in 
 touch and tone to make her tears break forth, as he 
 placed her in the ancient chair so often occupied to 
 gether, took the one opposite, and, sweeping a clear 
 space on the table between them, looked across it 
 with the air of a man bent on seeing his way and fol 
 lowing it at any cost. 
 
 " Now, Sylvia, I can listen as I should." 
 
 " Geoffrey, what can I say ? " 
 
 "Repeat all you have already told me. I only 
 gathered one fact then, now I want the circumstances, 
 for I find this confession difficult of belief." 
 
ASLEEP AND AWAKE. 291 
 
 Perhaps no sterner expiation could have been re 
 quired of her than to sit there, face to face, eye to eye, 
 and tell again that little history of thwarted love and 
 fruitless endeavor. Excitement had given her cour 
 age for the first confession, now it was torture to care 
 fully repeat what had poured freely from her lips 
 before. But she did it, glad to prove her penitence by 
 any test he might apply. Tears often blinded her, 
 uncontrollable emotion often arrested her ; and more 
 than once she turned on him a beseeching look, which 
 asked as plainly as words, " Must I go on ? " 
 
 Intent on learning all, Moor was unconscious of 
 the trial he imposed, unaware that the change in him 
 self was the keenest reproach he could have made, and 
 still, with a persistency as gentle as inflexible, he pur 
 sued his purpose to the end. When great drops rolled 
 down her cheeks he dried them silently; when she 
 paused, he waited till she calmed herself ; and when 
 she spoke, he listened with few interruptions but a 
 question now and then. Occasionally a sudden flush 
 of passionate pain swept across his face, as some 
 phrase, implying rather than expressing Warwick s 
 love or Sylvia s longing, escaped, the narrator s lips ; 
 and when she described their parting on that very 
 spot, his eye went from her to the hearth her words 
 seemed to make desolate, with a glance she never 
 could forget. But when the last question was an 
 swered, the last appeal for pardon brokenly uttered, 
 nothing but the pale pride remained ; and his voice 
 was cold and quiet as his mien. 
 
292 MOODS. 
 
 " Yes, it is this which has baffled and kept me grop 
 ing in the dark so long, for I wholly trusted what I 
 wholly loved." 
 
 " Alas, it was that very confidence that made my 
 task seem so necessary and so hard. How often I 
 longed to go to you with my great trouble as I used 
 to do with lesser ones ! But here you would suffer 
 more than I ; and, having done the wrong, it was for 
 me to pay the penalty. So, like many another weak 
 yet willing soul, I tried to keep you happy at all 
 costs." 
 
 " One frank word before I married you would have 
 spared us this. Could you not foresee the end and dare 
 to speak it, Sylvia ? " 
 
 " I see it now, I did not then, else I would have 
 spoken as freely as I speak to-night. I thought I had 
 outlived my love for Adam ; it seemed kind to spare 
 you a knowledge that would disturb your friendship, 
 so, though I told the truth, I did not tell it all. I 
 thought temptations came from without; I could 
 withstand such, and I did, even when it wore Adam s 
 shape. This temptation came so suddenly, seemed 
 so harmless, generous, and just, that I yielded to it, 
 unconscious that it was one. Surely I deceived my 
 self as cruelly as I did you, and God knows I have 
 tried to atone for it when time taught me the fatal 
 error of yielding to a mood." 
 
 " Poor child, it was too soon for you to play the 
 perilous game of hearts. I should have known it, 
 and left you to the safe and simple joys of girlhood. 
 
ASLEEP AND AWAKE. 293 
 
 Forgive me that I have kept you a prisoner so long ; 
 take off the fetter I put on, and go, Sylvia." 
 
 " No, do not put me from you yet ; do not think 
 that I can hurt you so, and then be glad to leave 
 you suffering alone. Look like your kind self if you 
 can ; talk to me as you used to ; let me show you my 
 heart and you will see how large a place you fill in it. 
 Let me begin again, for now the secret is told, there 
 is no fear to keep out love ; and I can give my whole 
 strength to learning the lesson you have tried so pa 
 tiently to teach." 
 
 " You cannot, Sylvia. We are as much divorced as 
 if judge and jury had decided the righteous but hard 
 separation for us. You can never be a wife to me 
 with an unconquerable affection in your heart ; I can 
 never be your husband while the shadow of a fear 
 remains. I will have all or nothing." 
 
 " Adam foretold this. He knew you best, and I 
 should have followed the brave counsel he gave me 
 long ago. Oh, if he were only here to help us now ! " 
 
 The desire broke from Sylvia s lips involuntarily as 
 she turned for strength to the strong soul that loved 
 her. But it was like wind to smouldering fire ; a 
 pang of jealousy wrung Moor s heart, and he spoke 
 out with a flash of the eye that startled Sylvia more 
 than the rapid change of voice and manner. 
 
 " Hush ! Say anything of yourself or me, and I 
 can bear it, but spare me the sound of Adam s name 
 to-night. A man s nature is not forgiving like a 
 woman s, and the best of us harbor impulses you 
 
294 MOODS. 
 
 know nothing of. If I am to lose wife, friend, and 
 home, for God s sake leave me my self-respect." 
 
 All the coldness and pride passed from Moor s face 
 as the climax of his sorrow came ; with an impetu 
 ous gesture he threw his arms across the table, and 
 laid down his head .in a paroxysm of tearless suffer 
 ing such as men only know. 
 
 How Sylvia longed to speak ! But what con 
 solation could the tenderest words supply ? She 
 searched for some alleviating suggestion, some hap 
 pier hope ; none came. Her eye turned to the pic 
 tured Fates above her as if imploring them to aid her. 
 But they looked back at her inexorably dumb, and 
 instinctively her thought passed beyond them to the 
 Euler of all fates,, asking the help which never is 
 refused. No words embodied her appeal, no sound 
 expressed it, only a voiceless cry from the depths of a 
 contrite spirit, owning its weakness, making known 
 its want. She prayed for submission, but her deeper 
 need was seen, and when she asked for patience to 
 endure, Heaven sent her power to act, and out of this 
 sharp trial brought her a better strength and clearer 
 knowledge of herself than years of smoother expe 
 rience could have bestowed. A sense of security, of 
 stability, came to her as that entire reliance assured 
 her by its all-sustaining power that she had found 
 what she most needed to make life clear to her and 
 duty sweet. With her face in her hands, she sat, for 
 getful that she was not alone, as in that brief but 
 precious moment she felt the exceeding comfort of a 
 
ASLEEP AND AWAKE. 295 
 
 childlike faith in the one Friend who, when we are 
 deserted by all, even by ourselves, puts forth His 
 hand and gathers us tenderly to Himself. 
 
 Her husband s, voice recalled her, and looking up 
 she showed him such an earnest, patient countenance, 
 it touched him like an unconscious rebuke. The first 
 tears she had seen rose to his eyes, and all the old 
 tenderness came back into his voice, softening the 
 dismissal which had been more coldly begun. 
 
 " Dear, silence and rest are best for both of us to 
 night. We cannot treat this trouble as we should 
 till we are calmer ; then we will take counsel how 
 soonest to end what never should have been begun. 
 Forgive me, pray for me, and in sleep forget me for a 
 little while." 
 
 He held the door for her, but as she passed Sylvia 
 lifted her face for the good-night caress without which 
 she had never left him since she became his wife. 
 She did not speak, but her eye humbly besought this 
 token of forgiveness ; nor was it denied. Moor laid his 
 hand upon her lips, and kissed her on the forehead. 
 
 Such a little thing : but it overcame Sylvia with 
 the sorrowful certainty of the loss which had befallen 
 both, and she crept away, feeling herself an exile from 
 the heart and home whose happy mistress she might 
 have been. 
 
 Moor watched the little figure going upward, and 
 weeping softly as it went, as if he echoed the sad 
 " never any more," which those tears expressed, and 
 when it vanished with a backward look, shut himself 
 in alone with his great sorrow. 
 
296 MOODS. 
 
 CHAPTEE XIX. 
 
 WHAT NEXT? 
 
 SYLVIA laid her head down on her pillow, believ 
 ing that this night would be the longest, saddest 
 she had ever known. But before she had time to 
 sigh for sleep it wrapped her in its comfortable arms, 
 and held her till day broke. Sunshine streamed 
 across the room, and early birds piped on the budding 
 boughs that swayed before the window. But no 
 morning smile saluted her, no morning flower awaited 
 her, and nothing but a little note lay on the impressed 
 pillow at her side. 
 
 " Sylvia, I have gone away to Faith, because this 
 proud, resentful spirit of mine must be subdued before 
 I meet you. I leave that behind me which will speak 
 to you more kindly, calmly, than I can now, and show 
 you that my effort has been equal to my failure. 
 There is nothing for me to do but submit ; manfully 
 if I must, meekly if I can ; and this short exile will 
 prepare me for the longer one to come. Take counsel 
 with those nearer and dearer to you than myself, 
 and secure the happiness which I have so ignorantly 
 delayed, but cannot wilfully destroy. God be with 
 you, and through all that is and is to come, remem 
 ber that you remain beloved forever in the heart of 
 Geoffrey Moor." 
 
WHAT NEXT? 297 
 
 Sylvia had known many sad uprisings, but never 
 a sadder one than this, and the hours that followed 
 aged her more than any year had done. All day she 
 wandered aimlessly to and fro, for the inward conflict 
 would not let her rest. The house seemed home no 
 longer when its presiding genius was gone, and every 
 where some token of his former presence touched her 
 with its mute reproach. 
 
 She asked no counsel of her family, for well she 
 knew the outburst of condemnation, incredulity, and 
 grief that would assail her there. They could not 
 help her yet ; they would only augment perplexities, 
 weaken convictions, and distract her mind. When 
 she was sure of herself she would tell them, endure 
 their indignation and regret, and steadily execute the 
 new purpose, whatever it should be. 
 
 To many it might seem an easy task to break the 
 bond that burdened and assume the tie that blessed. 
 But Sylvia had grown wise in self-knowledge, timor 
 ous through self-delusion; therefore the greater the 
 freedom given her, the more she hesitated to avail her 
 self of it. The nobler each friend grew as she turned 
 from one to the other, the more impossible seemed 
 the decision ; for generous spirit and loving heart con 
 tended for the mastery, yet neither won. She knew 
 that Moor had put her from him never to be recalled 
 till some miracle was wrought that should make her 
 truly his. This renunciation showed her how much 
 he had become to her, how entirely she had learned 
 to lean upon him, and how great a boon such perfect 
 
298 MOODS. 
 
 love was in itself. Even the prospect of a life with 
 Warwick brought forebodings with its hope. Reason 
 made her listen to many doubts which hitherto passion 
 had suppressed. Would she never tire of his unrest ? 
 Could she fill so large a heart and give it power as 
 well as warmth ? Might not the two wills clash, the 
 ardent natures inflame one another, the stronger in 
 tellect exhaust the weaker, and disappointment come 
 again ? And as she asked these questions, conscience, 
 the monitor whom no bribe can tempt, no threat 
 silence, invariably answered " Yes." 
 
 But chief among the cares that beset her was one 
 that grew more burdensome with thought. By her 
 own will she had put her liberty into another s keep 
 ing ; law confirmed the act, gospel sanctioned the 
 vow, and it could only be redeemed by paying the 
 costly price demanded of those who own that they 
 have drawn a blank in the lottery of marriage. Pub 
 lic opinion is a grim ghost that daunts the bravest, 
 and Sylvia knew that trials lay before her from which 
 she would shrink and suffer, as only a woman sensi 
 tive and proud as she could shrink and suffer. Once 
 apply this remedy, and any tongue would have the 
 power to wound, any eye to insult with pity or con 
 tempt, any stranger to criticise or condemn, and she 
 would have no means of redress, no place of refuge, 
 even in that stronghold, Adam s heart. 
 
 All that dreary day she wrestled with these stubborn 
 facts, but could neither mould nor modify them as she 
 would, and evening found her spent, but not decided. 
 
WHAT NEXT? 299 
 
 Too excited for sleep, yet too weary for exertion, she 
 turned bedward, hoping that the darkness and the 
 silence of night would bring good counsel, if not 
 rest. 
 
 Till now she had shunned the library as one shuns 
 the spot where one has suffered most. But as she 
 passed the open door, the gloom that reigned within 
 seemed typical of that which had fallen on its absent 
 master, and, following the impulse of the moment, 
 Sylvia went in to light it with the little glimmer of 
 her lamp. Nothing had been touched ; for no hand 
 but her own preserved the order of this room, and all 
 household duties had been neglected on that day. 
 The old chair stood where she had left it, and over 
 its arm was thrown the velvet coat Moor liked to 
 wear at this household try sting-place. Sylvia bent 
 to fold it smoothly as it hung, and, feeling that she 
 must solace herself with some touch of tenderness, 
 laid her cheek against the soft garment, whispering 
 " Good-night." Something glittered on the cushion 
 of the chair, and looking nearer she found a steel- 
 clasped book, upon the cover of which lay a dead 
 heliotrope, a little key. 
 
 It was Moor s Diary, and now she understood that 
 passage of the note which had been obscure before. 
 " I leave that behind me which will speak to you 
 more kindly, calmly, than I can now, and show you 
 that my effort has been equal to my failure." She 
 had often begged to read it, threatened to pick the 
 lock, and felt the strongest curiosity to learn what 
 
300 MOODS. 
 
 was contained in the long entries that he daily made. 
 Her, requests had always been answered with the 
 promise of entire possession of the book when the year 
 was out. Now he gave it, though the year was not 
 gone, and many leaves were yet unfilled. He thought 
 she would come to this room first, would see her morn 
 ing flower laid ready for her, and, sitting in what they 
 called their Eefuge, would draw some comfort for her 
 self, some palliation for his innocent offence, from the 
 record so abruptly ended. 
 
 She took it, went away to her own room, unlocked 
 the short romance of his wedded life, and found her 
 husband s heart laid bare before her. 
 
 It was a strange and solemn thing to look so deep 
 ly into the private experience of a fellow-being ; to 
 trace the birth and progress of purposes and passions, 
 the motives of action, the secret aspirations, the be 
 setting sins that made up the inner life he had been 
 leading beside her. Moor wrote with an eloquent 
 sincerity, because he had put himself into his book, 
 as if, feeling the need of some confidante, he had chosen 
 the only one that pardons egotism. Here, too, Syl 
 via saw her chameleon self, etched with loving care, 
 endowed with all gifts and graces, studied with un 
 flagging zeal, and made the idol of a life. 
 
 Often a tuneful spirit seemed to assert itself, and, 
 passing from smooth prose to smoother poetry, sonnet, 
 song, or psalm, flowed down the page in cadences 
 stately, sweet, or solemn, filling the reader with de 
 light at the discovery of a gift so genuine, yet so 
 
WHAT NEXT? 301 
 
 shyly folded up within itself, unconscious that its 
 modesty was the surest token of its worth. More 
 than once Sylvia laid her face into the book, and 
 added her involuntary comment on some poem or 
 passage made pathetic by the present; more than 
 once paused bo wonder, with exceeding wonder, why 
 she could not give such genius and affection its re 
 ward ; and more than once asked the Maker of these 
 mysterious hearts of ours to work the miracle which 
 should change a tender friendship to an undying love. 
 
 All night she lay there like some pictured Magda 
 lene, purer but as penitent as Correggio s Mary, with 
 the book, the lamp, the melancholy eyes, the golden 
 hair that painters love. All night she read, gathering 
 courage and consolation from those pages ; for seeing 
 what she was not showed her what she might become, 
 and when she turned the little key upon that story 
 without an end, Sylvia the girl was dead, but Sylvia 
 the woman had begun to live. 
 
 Lying in the rosy hush of dawn, there came to her 
 a sudden memory, 
 
 " If ever you need help that Geoffrey cannot give, 
 remember Cousin Faith." 
 
 This was the hour Faith foresaw. Moor had gone 
 to her with his trouble ; why not follow, and let this 
 woman, wise, discreet, and gentle, show her what 
 should come next ? 
 
 The newly risen sun saw Sylvia away upon her 
 journey to Faith s home among the hills. She lived 
 alone, a cheerful, busy, solitary soul, demanding little 
 
302 MOODS. 
 
 of others, yet giving freely to whomsoever asked an 
 alms of her. 
 
 Sylvia found the gray cottage nestled in a hollow of 
 the mountain side ; a pleasant hermitage, secure and 
 still. Mistress and maid composed the household, 
 but none of the gloom of isolation darkened the sun 
 shine that pervaded it ; peace seemed to sit upon its 
 threshold, content to brood under its eaves, and the 
 atmosphere of home to make it beautiful. 
 
 When some momentous purpose or event absorbs 
 us, we break through fears and formalities, act out 
 ourselves, forgetful of reserve, and use the plainest 
 phrases to express emotions which need no ornament 
 and little aid from language. Sylvia illustrated this 
 fact then ; for, without hesitation or embarrassment, 
 she entered Miss Dane s door, called no servant to 
 announce her, but went, as if by instinct, straight to 
 the room where Faith sat alone, and with the simplest 
 greeting asked, 
 
 " Is Geoffrey here ? " 
 
 " He was an hour ago, and will be an hour hence. 
 I sent him out to rest, for he cannot sleep. I am glad 
 you came to him ; he has not learned to do without 
 you yet." 
 
 With no bustle of surprise or sympathy Faith put 
 away her work, took off the hat and cloak, drew her 
 guest beside her on the couch before the one deep win 
 dow looking down the valley, and gently chafing the 
 chilly hands in warm ones, said nothing more till 
 Sylvia spoke. 
 
WHAT NEXT? 303 
 
 " He has told you all the wrong I have done him ? " 
 
 " Yes, and found a little comfort here. Do you 
 need consolation also ? " 
 
 " Can you ask ? But I need something more, and 
 no one can give it to me so well as you. I want to 
 be set right, to hear things called by their true names, 
 to be taken out of myself and made to see why I am 
 always doing wrong while trying to do well." 
 
 "Your father, sister, or brother, is fitter for that 
 task than I. Have you tried them ? " 
 
 "No, and I will not. They love ine, but they 
 could not help me ; for they would beg me to conceal 
 if I cannot forget, to endure if I cannot conquer, and 
 abide by my mistake at all costs. That is not the 
 help I want. I desire to know the one just thing to 
 be done, and to be made brave enough to do it, though 
 friends lament, gossips clamor, and the heavens fall. 
 I am in earnest now. Eate me sharply, drag out my 
 weaknesses, shame my follies, show no mercy to my 
 selfish hopes ; and when I can no longer hide from 
 myself put me in the way I should go, and I will 
 follow it though my feet bleed at every step." 
 
 She was in earnest now, terribly so, but still Faith 
 drew back, though her compassionate face belied her 
 hesitating words. 
 
 " Adam is wise and just, but he, as well as Geoffrey, 
 loves me too well to decide for me." Sylvia went 
 on : " You stand between them, wise as the one, gentle 
 as the other, and you do not care for me enough to 
 let affection hoodwink reason. Faith, you bade me 
 

 304 MOODS. 
 
 come ; do not cast me off, for if you shut your heart 
 against me I know not where to go." 
 
 Despairingly she spoke, disconsolate she looked, and 
 Faith s reluctance vanished. The maternal aspect re 
 turned, her voice resumed its warmth, her eye its 
 benignity, and Sylvia was reassured before a word 
 was spoken. 
 
 " I do not cast you off, nor shut my heart against 
 you. I only hesitated to assume such responsibility, 
 and shrank from the task because of compassion, not 
 coldness. Sit here, and tell me all your trouble, 
 Sylvia." 
 
 " That is so kind ! It seems quite natural to turn 
 to you as if I had a claim upon you. Let me have ; 
 and if you can, love me a little, because I have no 
 mother, and need one very much." 
 
 " My child, you shall not need one any more." 
 
 " I feel that, and am comforted already. Tell me first 
 which of the two who love me I should have married 
 had fate given me a choice in time." 
 
 " Neither." 
 
 Sylvia paled and trembled, as if the oracle she had 
 invoked was an unanswerable voice pronouncing the 
 truth she must abide by. 
 
 "Why, Faith?" 
 
 "Because you were too young, too unstable, and 
 guided by impulse, not by principle. You, of all 
 women, should have waited long, chosen carefully, and 
 guarded yourself from every shadow of doubt before 
 it was too late." 
 
WHAT NEXT? 305 
 
 " Had I done so, would it have been safe and happy 
 to have loved Adam ? " 
 
 " No, Sylvia, never." 
 
 "Why, Faith?" 
 
 " If you were blind, a cripple, or cursed with some 
 incurable infirmity of body, would you not hesitate to 
 bind yourself and your affliction to another ? " 
 
 " You know I should not only hesitate, but utterly 
 refuse." 
 
 "I do know it, therefore I venture to tell you why, 
 according to my belief, you should not marry Adam. 
 There are diseases more subtle and dangerous than 
 any that vex our flesh, diseases that should be as 
 carefully cured, if curable, as inexorably prevented 
 from increasing, as any malady we dread. A feeble 
 will, a morbid mind, a mad temper, an evil heart, a 
 blind soul, are afflictions to be as much regarded as 
 bodily infirmities ; nay, more, inasmuch as souls are 
 of greater value than perishable flesh. Where this is 
 religiously taught, believed, and practised, marriage 
 becomes, in truth, a sacrament blessed of God ; children 
 thank parents for the gift of life ; parents see in chil 
 dren living satisfactions and rewards, not reproaches 
 or retributions doubly heavy to be borne, for the 
 knowledge that where two sinned, many must inevi 
 tably suffer." 
 
 " You try to tell me gently, Faith, but I see that 
 you consider me one of the innocent unfortunates, 
 who have no right to marry till they be healed, per 
 haps never. I have dimly felt this during the past 
 
 20 
 
306 MOODS. 
 
 year, now I know it, and thank God that I have no 
 child to reproach me hereafter for bequeathing it the 
 mental ills I have not yet outlived." 
 
 "Dear Sylvia, you are an exceptional case in all 
 respects, because an extreme one. The ancient the 
 ology of two contending spirits in one body is 
 strangely exemplified in you, for each rules by turn, 
 and each helps or hinders as moods and circumstances 
 lead. Eyen in the great event of a woman s life you 
 were thwarted by conflicting, powers, impulse and 
 ignorance, passion and pride, hope and despair. Now 
 you stand at the parting of the ways, looking wistfully 
 along the pleasant one where love seems to beckon } 
 while I point down the rugged one that leads to duty, 
 and, though my heart aches as I do it, counsel you as 
 I would a daughter of my own." 
 
 " I thank you ; I will follow you, but life looks very 
 barren." 
 
 " Not as barren as if } 7 ou possessed your desire, and 
 found in it another misery and mistake. Could you 
 love Geoffrey, it would be safe and well with you; 
 loving Adam, it would be neither. Let me show you 
 why. He is an exception like yourself; perhaps that 
 explains your attraction for each other. In him the 
 head rules, in Geoffrey the heart. The one criticises, 
 the other loves, mankind. Geoffrey is proud and pri 
 vate in all that lies nearest him, clings to persons, and 
 is faithful as a woman. Adam has only the pride of 
 an intellect which tests all things and abides by its 
 own insight. He clings to principles; persons are 
 
WHAT NEXT? 307 
 
 but animated facts or ideas ; he seizes, searches, uses 
 them, and when they have no more for him, drops 
 them like the husk, whose kernel he has secured; 
 passing on to find and study other samples without 
 regret, but with unabated zeal. For life to him . is 
 perpetual progress, and he obeys the law of his nature 
 as steadily as sun or sea. Is not this so ? " 
 
 " All true ; what more, Faith ? " 
 
 " Few women, if wise, would dare to marry this 
 man, noble as he is, till time has tamed and experi 
 ence developed him. Even then the risk is great, for 
 he demands and unconsciously absorbs into himself 
 the personality of others, making large returns, but of 
 a kind which only those as strong, sagacious, and 
 steadfast as himself can receive and adapt to their in 
 dividual uses, without being overcome and possessed. 
 That none of us should be, except by the Spirit strong 
 er than man, purer than woman. You feel, though 
 you do not understand this power. You know that 
 his presence excites, yet wearies you ; that, while you 
 love, you fear him, and even when you long to be all 
 in all to him, you doubt your ability to make his hap 
 piness. Am I not right ? " 
 
 " I must say yes." 
 
 " Then it is scarcely necessary for me to tell you that 
 I think this unequal marriage would be but a brief 
 one for you ; bright at the beginning, dark at its end. 
 With hi,m you would exhaust yourself in passionate 
 endeavors to follow where he led. He would not see 
 this ; you would not confess it, but too late you would 
 
308 MOODS. 
 
 both learn that you were too young, too frail in all 
 but the strength of love, to be his wife. It is like a 
 wood bird mating with an eagle ; straining its little 
 wings to scale the sky with him, blinding itself with 
 gazing at the sun, vainly striving to fill and warm the 
 wild eyrie, and perishing in the stern solitude the 
 other loves." 
 
 " Faith, you frighten me ! You seem to see and 
 show me all the dim forebodings I have hidden away 
 from myself because I could not understand or dared 
 not face them. How have you learned so much ? 
 How can you read me so well ? " 
 
 " I had an unhappy girlhood in a discordant home, 
 and there was no escape except by a marriage that 
 would be slavery to me. Many cares and losses made 
 me early old, and taught me to observe the failures, 
 mistakes, and burdens of others. Since then solitude 
 has led me to study and reflect upon the question 
 toward which my thoughts inevitably turned." 
 
 "But, Faith, why have you never found a home 
 and partner for yourself, as other women do ? you 
 who are so nobly fitted for all the duties, joys, and 
 sorrows of married life ? " 
 
 " Because I never met the man who could satisfy 
 me. My ideal is a high one, and I believe that what 
 ever we are worthy of we shall find and enjoy here 
 after if not here." 
 
 " Not even Adam ? Surely he is heroic enough 
 for any woman s ideal." 
 
 " Not even Adam, for the reasons I have told you. 
 
WHAT NEXT? 309 
 
 I know his value, and feel the charm of his strength, 
 truth, and courage, but I should not dare to marry 
 him. Sylvia, unhappy marriages are the tragedies of 
 the world, and will be till men and women are taught 
 to make principle not pleasure, love not passion, 
 mutual fitness not reckless impulse, the guides and 
 guards to the most beautiful and sacred relation God 
 gives us for our best training and highest happiness." 
 
 " Ah, if some one had told me these things a year 
 ago, how much pain I might have spared myself and 
 others ! Prue thinks whatever is is right, and poor 
 Papa cares only to see me happy. All this will break 
 his heart." 
 
 Sylvia paused to sigh over his great disappointment ; 
 then returned with a still heavier sigh to her own. 
 
 " Who told you so much about us ? You cannot 
 have divined it all ? " 
 
 " Concerning yourself Geoffrey told me much, but 
 Adam more." 
 
 " Have you seen him ? Has he been here ? When, 
 Faith, when ? " , 
 
 Light and color flashed back into Sylvia s face, and 
 the eagerness of her voice was a pleasant sound after 
 the despair which had saddened it before. Faith 
 answered fully and with care, while the compassion 
 of her look deepened as she spoke, 
 
 " I saw him but a week ago ; vehement and vigor 
 ous as ever. He has come hither often during the 
 winter. He said you bade him hear of you through 
 me ; that he preferred to come, not write, for letters 
 
310 MOODS. 
 
 were often false interpreters, but face to face one gets 
 the real thought of one s friend by look as well as 
 word, and the result is satisfactory." 
 
 " That is Adam ! But what more did he say ? 
 How did you advise him ? I know he asked counsel 
 of you, as we all have done." 
 
 " He did, and I gave it as frankly as to you and 
 Geoffrey. He made me understand you, judge you 
 leniently, see in you the virtues you have cherished 
 despite drawbacks such as few have to struggle with. 
 Your father made Adam his confessor during the 
 happy month when you first knew him. I need not 
 tell you how he received and preserved such a trust. 
 He betrayed no confidence, but in speaking of you I 
 saw that his knowledge of the father taught him to 
 understand the daughter. It was well and beautifully 
 done, and did we need anything to endear him to us 
 this trait of character would do it ; for it is a rare en 
 dowment, the power of overcoming all obstacles 
 of pride, age, and the sad reserve self-condemnation 
 brings us, and making confession a grateful healing." 
 
 " I know it ; we tell our sorrows to such as Geof 
 frey, our sins to such as Adam. But, Faith, when 
 you spoke of me, did you say to him what you have 
 been saying to me about my unfitness to be his wife 
 because of inequality and my unhappy inheritance ?" 
 
 " Could I do otherwise when he fixed that com 
 manding eye of his upon me, asking, Is my love as 
 wise as it is warm ? He is one of those who force 
 the hardest truths from us by the simple fact that 
 
WHAT NEXT? 311 
 
 they can bear it, and would do the same for us. He 
 needed it then ; for though instinct was right, hence 
 his anxious question, his heart, never so entirely 
 roused as now, made it difficult for him to judge of 
 your relations to each other, and there my woman s 
 insight helped him." 
 
 " What did he do when you told him ? I see that 
 you hesitate to tell me. I think you have been pre 
 paring me to hear it. Speak out. Though my cheeks 
 whiten and my hands tremble, I can bear it, for you 
 shall be the law by which I will abide." 
 
 " You shall be a law to yourself, my brave Sylvia. 
 Put your hands in mine, and hold fast to the friend 
 who loves and honors you for this. I will tell you 
 what Adam did and said. He sat in deep thought 
 many minutes ; but with him to see is to do, and soon 
 he turned to me with the courageous expression which 
 in him signifies that the fight is fought, the victory 
 won. It is necessary to be true, it is not necessary 
 to be happy. I would never marry Sylvia, even if 
 I might, and with that paraphrase of words, whose 
 meaning seemed to fit his need, he went away. I 
 think he will not come again either to me or you." 
 
 How still the room grew as Faith s reluctant lips 
 uttered the last words ! Sylvia sat motionless, looking 
 out into the sunny valley with eyes that saw nothing 
 but the image of that beloved friend leaving her per 
 haps forever. Well she knew that with this man to 
 see was to do, and with a woful sense of desolation 
 falling cold upon her heart, she felt that there was 
 
312 MOODS. 
 
 nothing more to hope for but a brave submission like 
 his own. Yet in that pause there came a feeling of 
 relief after the first despair. The power of choice was 
 no longer left her, and the help she needed was be 
 stowed by one who could decide against himself, in 
 spired by a sentiment w r hich curbed a strong man s 
 love of self, and made it subject to a just man s love of 
 right. Great examples never lose their virtue ; what 
 Pompey was to Warwick that Warwick became to 
 Sylvia, and in the moment of supremest sorrow she felt 
 the fire of a noble emulation kindled in her from the 
 spark he left behind. 
 
 " Faith, what must I do ? " 
 
 " Your duty." 
 
 "And that is?" 
 
 " To love and live for Geoffrey." 
 
 " Can I ever forget ? Will he ever forgive ? Is 
 there anything before me but one long repentance for 
 the suffering I have given ? " 
 
 " The young always think that life is ruined by one 
 misfortune, one mistake; but they learn that it is 
 possible to forget, forgive, and live on till they have 
 wrung both strength and happiness out of the hard 
 experience that seemed to crush them. Wait a year, 
 do nothing hastily, lest, when the excitement of this 
 hour is past, you find you have renounced or promised 
 more than you can give up or perform. Geoffrey will 
 pardon freely, wait patiently, and if I know you both, 
 will welcome back in time a wife who will be worthy 
 of his love and confidence." 
 
WHAT NEXT? 313 
 
 " Can time work that miracle ? " asked Sylvia, ready 
 to learn more, yet incredulous of the possibility of 
 such an utter change in herself. 
 
 " You have been the victim of moods, now live 
 by principle, and hold fast by the duty you see and 
 acknowledge. Let nothing turn you from it ; shut 
 your ears to the whispers of temptation, keep your 
 thoughts from straying, your heart full of hope, your 
 soul of faith, humility, submission, and leave the rest 
 to God." 
 
 " I will ! Faith, what comes next ? " 
 
 " This." And she was gathered close while Faith 
 confessed how hard her task had been by letting tears 
 fall fast upon the head which seemed to have found 
 its proper resting-place, as if, despite her courage and 
 her wisdom, her woman s heart was half broken with 
 its pity. Better than any words was the motherly 
 embrace, the tender tears, the balm of sympathy which 
 soothed the wounds it could not heal. 
 
 Leaning on each other, the two hearts talked to 
 gether in the silence, feeling the beauty of the tie kind 
 Kature weaves between consoler and consoled. Faith 
 often turned her lips to Sylvia s forehead, brushed 
 back her hair with a lingering touch, and drew her 
 closer, as if it was very sweet to see and feel the young 
 creature in her arms. Sylvia lay there, tearless and 
 tranquil, thinking thoughts for which she had no 
 words, trying to prepare herself for the life before her, 
 and to pierce the veil that hid the future. Her eyes 
 rested on the valley where the river flowed, the elms 
 
314 MOODS. 
 
 waved their budding boughs in the bland air, and the 
 meadows wore their earliest tinge of green. But she 
 was not conscious of these things till the sight of a 
 solitary figure coming slowly up the hill recalled her 
 to the present and the duties it still held for her. 
 
 " Here is Geoffrey ! How wearily he walks, how 
 changed and old he looks, oh, why was I born to 
 be a curse to all who love me ! " 
 
 " Hush, Sylvia, say anything but that, because it 
 casts reproach upon your father. Your life is but just 
 begun ; make it a blessing, not a curse, as all of us 
 have power to do ; and remember that for every afflic 
 tion there are two helpers, who can heal or end the 
 heaviest we know, Time and Death. The first we 
 may invoke and wait for ; the last God alone can send 
 when it is better not to live." 
 
 " I will try to be patient. Will you meet and tell 
 Geoffrey what has passed ? I have no strength left 
 but for passive endurance." 
 
 Faith went ; Sylvia heard the murmur of earnest 
 conversation ; then steps came rapidly along the hall, 
 and Moor was in the room. She rose involuntarily, 
 but for a moment neither spoke, for never had they 
 met as now. Each regarded the other as if a year had 
 rolled between them since they parted, and each saw 
 in the other the changes that one day had wrought. 
 Neither the fire of resentment nor the frost of pride 
 now rendered Moor s face stormy or stern. Anxious 
 and worn it was, with newly graven lines upon the 
 forehead, and melancholy curves about the mouth, but 
 
WHAT NEXT? 315 
 
 the peace of a conquered spirit touched it with a pale 
 serenity, and some perennial hope shone in the glance 
 he bent upon his wife. For the first time in her life 
 Sylvia was truly beautiful, not physically, for never 
 had she looked more weak and wan, but spiritually, 
 as the inward change made itself manifest in an in 
 describable expression of meekness and of strength. 
 With suffering came submission, with repentance came 
 regeneration, and the power of the woman yet to be, 
 touched with beauty the pathos of the woman now 
 passing through the fire. 
 
 " Faith has told you what has passed between us, 
 and the advice she gives us in our present strait ? " 
 
 " I submit, Sylvia ; I can still hope and wait." 
 
 So humbly he said it, so heartily he meant it, she 
 felt that his love was as indomitable as Warwick s 
 will, and the wish to be worthy of it woke with all its 
 old intensity, since no other was possible to her. 
 
 " It is not for one so unstable as I to say, I shall 
 not change. I leave all to time and my earnest long 
 ing to do right. Go, and leave me to grow worthy of 
 you ; and if death parts us, remember that however I 
 may thwart your life here, there is a beautiful eternity 
 where you may forget me and be happy." 
 
 " I will go, I will stay till you recall me, but death 
 will not change me. Love is immortal, dear, and even 
 in the beautiful eternity I shall still hope and wait:" 
 
 This invincible fidelity, so patient, so persistent, im 
 pressed Sylvia like a prophecy, and remained to com 
 fort her in the hard year to come. 
 
316 MOODS. 
 
 How soon it was all over, the return to separate 
 homes, the disclosures, and the storms ; the prepara 
 tions for the solitary voyage, for Moor decided to go 
 abroad, the last charges and farewells ! 
 
 Max would not, and Prue could not, go to see 
 the traveller off, the former too angry to lend his 
 countenance to what he termed a barbarous banish 
 ment ; the latter, being half blind with crying, stayed 
 to nurse Jessie, whose soft heart was nearly broken at 
 what seemed to her the most direful affliction under 
 heaven. 
 
 But Sylvia and her father followed Moor till his foot 
 left the soil, and still lingered on the wharf to watch 
 the steamer out of port. An uncongenial place in 
 which to part ; carriages rolled up and down, a clamor 
 of voices filled the air, the little steam-tug snorted 
 with impatience, and the waves flowed seaward with 
 the ebbing of the tide. But father and daughter saw 
 only one object, heard only one sound, Moor s face 
 as it looked down upon them from the deck, Moor s 
 voice as he sent cheery messages to those left behind. 
 Mr. Yule was endeavoring to reply as cheerily, and 
 Sylvia was gazing with eyes that saw very dimly 
 through their tears, when both were aware of an in 
 stantaneous change in the countenance they watched. 
 Something beyond themselves seemed to arrest Moor s 
 eye ; a moment he stood intent and motionless, then 
 flushed to the forehead with the dark glow Sylvia re 
 membered well, waved his hand to them, and vanished 
 down the cabin stairs. 
 
WHAT NEXT? 317 
 
 " Papa, what did he see ? " 
 
 There was no need of any answer, for Warwick 
 came striding through the crowd, saw them, paused 
 with both hands out, and a questioning glance as if 
 uncertain of his greeting. With one impulse the 
 hands were taken ; Sylvia could not speak, her father 
 could, and did approvingly, 
 
 " Welcome, Adam ; you are come to say good-by 
 to Geoffrey ? " 
 
 " Eatlier to you, sir; he needs none, I go with him." 
 
 " With him ! " echoed both hearers. 
 
 " Ay, that I will ! Did you think I would let him 
 go away alone, feeling bereaved of wife and home and 
 friend ? " 
 
 " We should have known you better. But, War 
 wick, he will shun you ; he hid himself just now as 
 you approached ; he has tried to forgive, but he can 
 not so soon forget." 
 
 " All the more need of my helping him to do both. 
 He cannot shun me long with no hiding-place to fly 
 to but the sea, and I will so gently constrain him by 
 the old-time love we bore each other, that he must 
 relent and take me back into his heart again." 
 
 " Adam ! go with him, stay with him, and bring 
 him safely back to me when time has helped us all." 
 
 " I shall do it, God willing." 
 
 Unmindful of all else, Warwick bent and took her 
 to him as he gave the promise, seemed to put his 
 whole heart into a single kiss, and left her trembling 
 with the stress of his farewell She saw him cleave 
 
318 MOODS. 
 
 his way through the throng, leap the space left by the 
 gangway just withdrawn, and vanish in search of that 
 lost friend. Then she turned her face to her father s 
 shoulder, conscious of nothing but the fact that War 
 wick had come and gone. 
 
 A cannon boomed, the crowd cheered, the last cable 
 was flung off, and the steamer glided from her moor 
 ings with the surge of water and the waft of wind, 
 like some sea-monster eager to be out upon the ocean 
 free again. 
 
 " Look up, Sylvia ; she will soon pass from sight." 
 
 " Are they there ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Then I do not care to see. Look for me, father, 
 and tell me when they come." 
 
 " They will not come, dear ; both have said good-by, 
 and we have seen the last of them for many a long 
 day." 
 
 " They will come ! Adam will bring Geoffrey to 
 show me they are friends again. I know it ; you shall 
 see it. Lift me to that block, and watch the deck with 
 me that we may see them the instant they appear." 
 
 Up she sprang, eyes clear now, nerves steady, faith 
 strong. Leaning forward so utterly forgetful of her 
 self, she would have fallen into the green water tum 
 bling there below, had not her father held her fast. 
 How slowly the minutes seemed to pass, how rapidly 
 the steamer seemed to glide away, how heavily the 
 sense of loss weighed on her heart as wave after wave 
 rolled between her and her heart s desire ! 
 
WHAT NEXT? 319 
 
 " Come down, Sylvia, it is giving yourself useless 
 pain to watch and wait. Come home, my child, and 
 let us comfort each other." 
 
 She did not hear him ; for as he spoke, the steamer 
 swung slowly round to launch itself into the open bay, 
 and with a cry that drew many eyes upon the young 
 figure with its face of pale expectancy, Sylvia saw her 
 hope fulfilled. 
 
 " I knew they would come ! See, father, see ! 
 Geoffrey is smiling as he waves his handkerchief, 
 and Adam s hand is on his shoulder. Answer them ! 
 oh, answer them ! I can only look." 
 
 The old man did answer them enthusiastically, and 
 Sylvia stretched her arms across the widening space 
 as if to bring them back again. Side by side the 
 friends stood now ; Moor s eye upon his wife, while 
 from his hand the little flag of peace streamed in the 
 wind. But Warwick s glance was turned upon his 
 friend, and Warwick s hand already seemed to claim 
 the charge he had accepted. 
 
 Standing thus they passed from sight, never to 
 come sailing home together as the woman on the 
 shore was praying God to let her see them come. 
 
320 MOODS. 
 
 CHAPTEE XX. 
 
 A YEAR. 
 
 YLYIA was spared all effort but passive endur- 
 ance during the first month of trial, for she fell 
 ill. The overwrought mind preyed upon the body, 
 and exhaustion forced both to rest. For a few days 
 there was danger, and she knew it, yet was not glad 
 as she once would have been. Lying in the shadow 
 of death, her life looked such a sorrowful failure she 
 longed for a chance to retrieve it. What had she done 
 worth the doing ? Whom had she made happy ? 
 Where was the humble satisfaction that should come 
 hand in hand with death ? There was a time when 
 she would have answered these self-accusations by 
 saying, " It is my fate," and so drifted on to life or 
 death, ready for neither. Now conscience as well as 
 heart suffered, and a nobler courage than resignation 
 was growing in her. An earnest desire to atone, to 
 rise above all obstacles and turn the seeming defeat 
 into a sweet success, so possessed her that it seemed 
 cowardly to die, and she asked for life, feeling that 
 she had learned to use if not to enjoy it more truly 
 than before. In those quiet weeks of enforced seclu 
 sion she grew fast, and when she rose a stronger and 
 more patient soul shone through the frail body like 
 the flame that makes the lamp transparent. 
 
A YEAR. 321 
 
 The ensuing year seemed fuller of events than any 
 Sylvia had ever known. At first she found it very 
 hard to live her life alone ; for inward cares oppressed 
 her, and external trials were not wanting. Only to 
 the few who had a right to know, had the whole 
 trouble been confided. They were discreet from family 
 pride, if from no tenderer feeling; but the curious 
 world outside of that small circle was full of shrewd 
 surmises, of keen eyes for discovering domestic 
 breaches, and shrill tongues for proclaiming them. 
 Warwick escaped suspicion, being so little known, so 
 seldom seen ; but for the usual nine days matrons 
 and venerable maids wagged their caps, lifted their 
 hands, and sighed as they sipped their dish of scandal 
 and of tea, 
 
 " Poor young man ! I always said how it would be, 
 she was so peculiar. My dear creature, have n t you 
 heard that Mrs. Moor is n t happy with her husband, 
 and that he has gone abroad quite broken-hearted ? " 
 
 Sylvia felt this deeply, but received it as her just 
 punishment, and bore herself so meekly that public 
 opinion soon turned a somersault, and the murmur 
 changed to, 
 
 " Poor young thing ! what could she expect ? My 
 dear, I have it from the best authority, that Mr. Moor 
 has made her miserable for a year, and now left her 
 broken-hearted." After that the gossips took up some 
 newer tragedy, and left Mrs. Moor to mend her heart 
 as best she could, a favor very gratefully received. 
 
 As Hester Prynne seemed to see some trace of her 
 
 21 
 
 
322 MOODS. 
 
 own sin in every bosom, by the glare of the Scarlet 
 Letter burning on her own, so Sylvia, living in the 
 shadow of a household grief, found herself detecting 
 various phases of her own experience in others. She 
 had joined that sad sisterhood called disappointed 
 women; a larger class than many deem it to be, 
 though there are few of us who have not seen mem 
 bers of it. Unhappy wives ; mistaken or forsaken 
 lovers ; meek souls, who make life a long penance for 
 the sins of others ; gifted creatures kindled into fitful 
 brilliancy by some inward fire that consumes but can 
 not warm. These are the women who fly to convents, 
 write bitter books, sing songs full of heartbreak, act 
 splendidly the passion they have lost or never won ; 
 who smile, and try to lead brave uncomplaining 
 lives, but whose tragic eyes betray them, whose voices, 
 however sweet or gay, contain an undertone of hope 
 lessness, whose faces sometimes startle one with an 
 expression which haunts the observer long after it is 
 gone. 
 
 Undoubtedly Sylvia would have joined the melan 
 choly chorus, and fallen to lamenting that ever she 
 was born, had she not possessed a purpose that took 
 her out of herself and proved her salvation. Faith s 
 words took root and blossomed. Intent on making 
 her life a blessing, not a reproach to her father, she 
 lived for him entirely. He had taken her back to 
 him, as if the burden of her unhappy past should be 
 upon his shoulders, the expiation of her faults come 
 from him alone. Sylvia understood this now, and 
 
A YEAR. 323 
 
 nestled to him so gladly, so confidingly, he seemed to 
 have found again the daughter he had lost and be 
 almost content to have her all his own. 
 
 How many roofs cover families or friends who live 
 years together, yet never truly know each other ; who 
 love, and long, and try to meet, yet fail to do so till 
 some unexpected emotion or event performs the work. 
 In the year that followed the departure of the friends, 
 Sylvia discovered this and learned to know her father. 
 No one was so much to her as he ; no one so fully 
 entered into her thoughts and feelings ; for sympathy 
 drew them tenderly together, and sorrow made them 
 equals. As man and woman they talked, as father 
 and daughter they loved ; and the beautiful relation 
 became their truest solace and support. 
 
 Miss Yule both rejoiced at and rebelled against this ; 
 was generous, yet mortally jealous; made no com 
 plaint, but grieved in private, and one fine day amazed 
 her sister by announcing that, being of no farther use 
 at home, she had decided to be married. Both Mr. 
 Yule and Sylvia had desired this event, but hardly 
 dared to expect it in spite of sundry propitious signs 
 arid circumstances. 
 
 A certain worthy widower had haunted the house 
 of late, evidently on matrimonial thoughts intent. A 
 solid gentleman, both physically and financially speak 
 ing ; possessed of an ill-kept house, bad servants, and 
 nine neglected children. This prospect, however 
 alarming to others, had great charms for Prue ; nor 
 was the Eeverend Gamaliel Bliss repugnant to her, 
 
324 MOODS. 
 
 being a rubicund, bland personage, much given to 
 fine linen, long dinners, and short sermons. His 
 third spouse had been suddenly translated, and though 
 the year of mourning had not yet expired, things 
 went so hardly with Gamaliel, that he could no longer 
 delay casting his pastoral eyes over the flock which 
 had already given three lambs to his fold, in search 
 of a fourth. None appeared whose meek graces were 
 sufficiently attractive, or whose dowries were suffi 
 ciently large. Meantime the nine olive-branches grew 
 wild, the servants revelled, the ministerial digestion 
 suffered, the sacred shirts went buttonless, and their 
 wearer was wellnigh distraught. At this crisis he 
 saw Prudence, and fell into a way of seating himself 
 before the well-endowed spinster, with a large cambric 
 pocket-handkerchief upon his knee, a frequent tear 
 meandering down his florid countenance, and volcanic 
 sighs agitating his capacious waistcoat as he poured 
 his woes into her ear. Prue had been deeply touched 
 by these moist appeals, and was not much surprised 
 when the reverend gentleman went ponderously down 
 upon his knee before her in the good old-fashioned 
 style which frequent use had endeared to him, mur 
 muring with an appropriate quotation and a subterra 
 nean sob, 
 
 " Miss Yule, a good wife is a crown to her hus 
 band ; be such an one to me, unworthy as I am, and 
 a mother to my bereaved babes, who suffer for a ten 
 der woman s care." 
 
 She nearly upset her sewing-table with an appro- 
 
A YEAR. 325 
 
 priate start, but speedily recovered, and with a maid 
 enly blush murmured in return, 
 
 " Dear me, how very unexpected ! pray speak to 
 papa, oh, rise, I beg." 
 
 " Call me Gamaliel, and I obey ! " gasped the stout 
 lover, divided between rapture and doubts of his abil 
 ity to perform the feat alone. 
 
 " Gam-aliel," sighed Prue, surrendering her hand. 
 
 " My Prudence, blessed among women ! " responded 
 the blissful Bliss. And having saluted the fair mem 
 ber, allowed it to help him rise ; when, after a few 
 decorous endearments, he departed to papa, and the 
 bride elect rushed up to Sylvia with the incoherent 
 announcement, 
 
 " My dearest child, I have accepted him ! It was 
 such a surprise, though so touchingly done. I was 
 positively mortified ; Maria had swept the room so ill, 
 his knees were white with lint, and I m a very happy 
 woman, bless you, love ! " 
 
 "Sit down, and tell me all about it," cried her 
 sister. "Don t try to sew, but cry if you like, and let 
 me pet you, for indeed I am rejoiced." 
 
 But Prue preferred to rock violently, and boggle 
 down a seam as the best quietus for her fluttered 
 nerves, while she told her romance, received congrat 
 ulations, and settled a few objections made by Sylvia, 
 who tried to play the prudent matron. 
 
 " I am afraid he is too old for you, my dear." 
 
 " Just the age ; a man should always be ten years 
 older than his wife. A woman of thirty-five is in the 
 
326 MOODS. 
 
 prime of life, and if she has n t arrived at years of dis 
 cretion then, she never will. Shall I wear pearl- 
 colored silk and a white bonnet, or just a very 
 handsome travelling dress ? " 
 
 " Whichever you like. But, Prue, is n t he rather 
 stout, I won t say corpulent ? " 
 
 " Sylvia, how can you ! Because papa is a shadow, 
 you call a fine, manly person like Gam Mr. Bliss, 
 corpulent. I always said I would not marry an in 
 valid (Macgregor died of apoplexy last week, I heard, 
 at a small dinner-party ; fell forward with his head 
 upon the cheese, and expired without a groan), and 
 where can you find a more robust and healthy man 
 than Mr. Bliss ? Not a gray hair, and gout his only 
 complaint. So aristocratic. You know I ve loads of 
 fine old flannel, just the thing for him." 
 
 Sylvia commanded her countenance with difficulty, 
 and went on with her maternal inquiries. 
 
 " He is a personable man, and an excellent one I 
 believe, yet I should rather dread the responsibility 
 of nine small children, if I were you." 
 
 " They are my chief inducement to the match. Just 
 think of the state those dears must be in, with only a 
 young governess, and half a dozen giddy maids to see 
 to them. I long to be among them, and named an 
 early day, because measles and scarlatina are coming 
 round again, and only Fanny, and the twins, Gus and 
 Gam, have had either. I know all their names and 
 ages, dispositions and characters, and love them like 
 a mother already. He perfectly adores them, and 
 
A YEAR. 327 
 
 that is very charming in a learned man like Mr. 
 Bliss." 
 
 " If that is your feeling it will all go well, I have no 
 doubt. But, Prue, I don t wish to be unkind, 
 dear, _ do you quite like the idea of being the fourth 
 Mrs. Bliss?" 
 
 " Bless me, I never thought of that ! Poor man, it 
 only shows how much he must need consolation, and 
 proves how good a husband he must have been. No, 
 Sylvia, I don t care a particle. I never knew those 
 estimable ladies, and the memory of them shall not 
 keep me from making Gamaliel happy if I can. What 
 he goes through now is almost beyond belief. My 
 child, just think ! the coachman drinks ; the cook 
 has tea-parties whenever she likes, and supports her 
 brother s family out of her perquisites, as she calls her 
 barefaced thefts ; the house-maids romp with the in 
 door man, and have endless followers ; three old maids 
 set their caps at him, and that hussy, I must use a 
 strong expression, that hussy of a governess makes 
 love to him before the children. It is my duty to 
 marry him ; I shall do it, and put an end to this fear 
 ful state of things." 
 
 Sylvia asked but one more question, 
 
 " Now, seriously, do you love him very much ? 
 Will he make you as happy as my dear girl should be ? " 
 
 Prue dropped her work, and, hiding her face on Syl 
 via s shoulder, answered with a plaintive sniff or two, 
 and much real feeling, 
 
 " Yes, my dear, I do. I tried to love him, and I 
 
328 MOODS. 
 
 did not fail. I shall be happy, for I shall be busy. 
 I am not needed here any more, and so I am glad to 
 go away into a home of my own, feeling sure that you 
 can fill my place; and Maria knows my ways too 
 well to let things go amiss. Now, kiss me, and 
 smooth my collar, for papa may call me down." 
 
 The sisters embraced and cried a little, as women 
 usually find it necessary to do at such interesting 
 times ; then fell to planning the wedding outfit, and 
 deciding between the " light silk and white bonnet," 
 or the " handsome travelling suit." 
 
 Miss Yule made a, great sacrifice to the proprieties 
 by relinquishing her desire for a stately wedding, and, 
 much to Sylvia s surprise and relief, insisted that, as 
 the family was then situated, it was best to have no 
 stir or parade, but to be married quietly at church and 
 slip unostentatiously out of the old life into the new. 
 Her will was law, and as the elderly bridegroom felt 
 that there was no time to spare, and the measles con 
 tinued to go about seeking whom they might devour, 
 Prue did not keep him waiting long. " Three weeks 
 is very little time, and nothing will be properly done, 
 for one must have everything new when one is mar 
 ried, of course, and mantua-makers are but mortal 
 women (exorbitant in their charges this season, I 
 assure you), so be patient, Gamaliel, and spend the 
 time in teaching my little ones to love me before I 
 come." 
 
 " My dearest creature, I will." And well did the 
 enamored gentleman perform his promise. 
 
A YEAR. 329 
 
 Prue kept hers so punctually that she was married 
 with the bastings in her wedding gown and two dozen 
 pocket-handkerchiefs still unhernmed, facts which 
 disturbed her even during the ceremony. A quiet 
 time throughout; and after a sober feast, a tearful 
 farewell, Mrs. Gamaliel Bliss departed, leaving a great 
 void behind and carrying joy to the heart of her 
 spouse, comfort to the souls of the excited nine, de 
 struction to the " High Life Below Stairs," and order, 
 peace, and plenty to the realm over which she was to 
 know a long and prosperous reign. 
 
 Hardly had the excitement of this event subsided 
 when another occurred to keep Sylvia from melan 
 choly and bring an added satisfaction to her lonely 
 days. Across the sea there came to her a little book, 
 bearing her name upon its titlepage. Quaintly print 
 ed, and bound in some foreign style, plain and unas 
 suming without, but very rich within, for there she 
 found Warwick s Essays, and between each of these 
 one of the poerns from Moor s Diary. Far away there 
 in Switzerland they had devised this pleasure for her, 
 and done honor to the woman whom they both loved, 
 by dedicating to her the first fruits of their lives. 
 "Alpen Bosen" was its title, and none could have 
 better suited it in Sylvia s eyes, for to her Warwick 
 was the Alps and Moor the roses. Each had helped 
 the other; Warwick s rugged prose gathered grace 
 from Moor s poetry, and Moor s smoothly flowing 
 lines acquired power from Warwick s prose. Each 
 had given her his best, and very proud was Sylvia of 
 
330 MOODS. 
 
 the little book, over which she pored day after day, 
 living on and in it, eagerly collecting all praises, re 
 senting all censures, and thinking it the one perfect 
 volume in the world. 
 
 Others felt and acknowledged its worth as well ; for 
 though fashionable libraries were not besieged by in 
 quiries for it, and no short-lived enthusiasm welcomed 
 it, a place was found for it on many study-tables, 
 where real work was done. Innocent girls sang the 
 songs and loved the poet, while thoughtful women, 
 looking deeper, honored the man. Young men re 
 ceived the Essays as brave protests against the evils 
 of the times, and old men felt their faith in honor 
 and honesty revive. The wise saw great promise in 
 it, and the most critical could not deny its beauty and 
 its power. 
 
 Early in autumn arrived a fresh delight ; and Jes 
 sie s little daughter became peacemaker as well as 
 idol. Max forgave his enemies, and swore eternal 
 friendship with all mankind the first day of his baby s 
 life ; and when his sister brought it to him he took 
 both in his arms, making atonement for many hasty 
 words and hard thoughts by the broken whisper, 
 
 " I have two little Sylvias now." 
 
 This wonderful being absorbed both households, 
 from grandpapa to the deposed sovereign Tilly, whom 
 Sylvia called her own, and kept much with her ; while 
 Prue threatened to cause a rise in the price of station 
 ery by the daily and copious letters full of warning 
 and advice which she sent, feeling herself a mother 
 
A YEAR. 331 
 
 in Israel among her tribe of nine, now safely carried 
 through the Red Sea of scarlatina. Happy faces made 
 perpetual sunshine round the little Sylvia, but to 
 none was she so dear a boon as to her young god 
 mother. Jessie became a trifle jealous of " old Syl 
 via," as she now called herself, for she almost lived in 
 baby s nursery ; hurrying over in time to assist at its 
 morning ablutions, hovering about its crib when it 
 slept, daily discovering beauties invisible even to its 
 mother s eyes, and working early and late on dainty 
 garments, rich in the embroidery which she now 
 thanked Prue for teaching her against her will. The 
 touch of the baby hands seemed to heal her sore 
 heart ; the sound of the baby voice, even when most 
 unmusical, had a soothing effect upon her nerves ; the 
 tender cares its helplessness demanded absorbed her 
 thoughts, and kept her happy in a new world whose 
 delights she had never known till now. 
 
 From this time a restful expression replaced the 
 patient hopelessness her face had worn before, and in 
 the lullabies she sang the listeners caught echoes of 
 the cheerful voice they had never thought to hear 
 again. Gay she was not, but serene. Quiet was all 
 she asked ; and shunning society seemed happiest to 
 sit at home with baby and its gentle mother, with 
 Max, now painting as if inspired, or with her father, 
 who relinquished business and devoted himself to her. 
 A pleasant pause seemed to have come after troublous 
 days ; a tranquil hush in which she sat waiting for 
 what time should bring her. But as she waited the 
 
332 MOODS. 
 
 woman seemed to bloom more beautifully than the 
 girl had done. Light and color revisited her coun 
 tenance, clearer and deeper than of old ; fine lines 
 ennobled features faulty in themselves; and the 
 indescribable refinement of a deep inward life made 
 itself manifest in look, speech, and gesture, giving 
 promise of a gracious womanhood. 
 
 As if to sever the last tie that bound her to the 
 old home and make the new one her most natural 
 refuge, Mr. Yule died suddenly. So painlessly and 
 peacefully that no memory of suffering, no sad decay 
 of mind, added to the sorrow of those who loved him 
 most. His last words had been for Sylvia, " Good 
 night, my daughter, and God bless you." His last 
 kiss was given to her, and she was the first to find 
 him in the morning wrapped in the sleep from which 
 there is no awakening here. 
 
 Then the tender satisfaction of knowing that her 
 dutiful affection had been all in all to him was a 
 cordial that sustained her, lightened her grief, and for 
 a time made the new loneliness unfelt. 
 
 Max was master now, and Jessie took the seat Prue 
 had filled so long. Sylvia wished it so, and thought 
 to slip into her old place again as if nothing had 
 been changed. But it was impossible ; the wayward 
 girl was gone, and in her place a thoughtful woman 
 who could not be satisfied with what had fed her once. 
 Youthful pleasures, hopes, and fancies were replaced 
 by earnest aspirations, faithful labor, and quiet joys. 
 She dreamed no more but lived, and in holy living 
 
A YEAR. 333 
 
 and high thinking found the secret of self-knowledge 
 and self-help. 
 
 As spring came on a great longing for a home of 
 her own grew up in her, and where should she so 
 naturally go as to the Manse, still waiting for its 
 mistress ? When she spoke of this Max inwardly 
 exulted and Jessie openly rejoiced ; both feeling that 
 she would not long remain content there without re 
 calling its master. They were right ; for Sylvia s 
 resolve had been strengthening slowly ever since her 
 father died, and to test it she went back to the home 
 she had made so desolate. April saw her there, busy, 
 quiet, but happy, if one might trust the serene face 
 that seemed to brighten the closed rooms even more 
 than the sunshine she let in. Before she left every 
 thing to others, now she set her house in order her 
 self with a loving care which plainly betrayed it was 
 for the coming of some dear and welcome guest. 
 
 But for the sincerity of her purpose, the warmth of 
 her desire, the fidelity that never wavered from its 
 duty, the memories that haunted the old house would 
 have made it terrible to live there alone. It was sad, 
 and with each day Sylvia longed more ardently for 
 the return of the one companion who had the right to 
 share it with her, the power to make it happy, not 
 with the former show of peace, but with a sober hap 
 piness too genuine to be wrecked again. 
 
 Hope painted a future full of content ; for the suffer 
 ing of the past, the hard-won repose of the present, 
 proved that there was compensation for every loss, and 
 
334 MOODS. 
 
 that out of bitter sorrow strength and sweetness might 
 be distilled by the Worker of all miracles. 
 
 Faith came to help her, as she had come many 
 times that year, confirming each step she made, and 
 cheering her to climb on with a brave heart and eyes 
 fixed on heaven. 
 
 When all was ready Sylvia made a little pilgrimage 
 through her Paradise Regained, lingering in many 
 places to relive the sad or happy hours spent there ; 
 and when she came again to the study, she stood a 
 moment, looking up at the Fates with something 
 softer than a smile upon her face, as she said aloud, 
 
 " I no longer fear you, pagan sisters. I am learning 
 to spin my own life, trusting to a kinder hand than 
 yours to weave some gold among the gray, and cut 
 the thread when I am ready for a higher lesson." 
 
 Faith entered as she spoke, heard what she said, 
 saw the uplifted look, felt that the time she had hoped 
 for and believed in had come, and longed to share it 
 with the other patient waiter. 
 
 " Sylvia, I am writing to Geoffrey. Have you any 
 message for him, dear ? " 
 
 "Yes, this." 
 
 Slowly Sylvia drew from her bosom a little note, 
 opened it and held it before Faith, asking as a child 
 might of its mother, " Shall I send it ? " 
 
 Only three words, but Faith s heart sang for joy as 
 she answered, "Yes !" for the words were, 
 
 " Husband, come home." 
 
ADAM KEEPS HIS PROMISE. 335 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 ADAM KEEPS HIS PROMISE. 
 
 I 1ST a small Italian town not far from Rome, a trav 
 eller stood listening to an account of a battle 
 lately fought near by, in which the place had suffered 
 much, yet been forever honored in the eyes of its in 
 habitants by having been the headquarters of the 
 Hero of Italy. An inquiry of the traveller s concern 
 ing a countryman of whom he was in search created 
 a sensation at the little inn, and elicited the story of 
 the battle, one incident of which was still the all- 
 absorbing topic with the excited villagers. This was 
 the incident which one of the group related with the 
 dramatic effects of a language composed almost as 
 much of gesture as of words, and an audience as pic 
 turesque as could well be conceived. 
 
 While the fight was raging on the distant plain, a 
 troop of marauding Croats dashed into the town, 
 whose defenders, although outnumbered, contested 
 every inch of ground, while slowly driven back toward 
 the convent, the despoiling of which was the object 
 of the attack. This convent was both hospital and 
 refuge; for there were gathered women and chil 
 dren, the sick, the wounded, and the old. To secure 
 the safety of these rather than of the sacred relics, the 
 
336 MOODS. 
 
 Italians were bent on holding the town till the rein 
 forcement for which they had sent could come up. It 
 was a question of time, and every moment brought 
 nearer the destruction of the helpless garrison, trem 
 bling behind the convent walls. A brutal massacre 
 was in store for them if no help came ; and remem 
 bering this the red-shirted G-aribaldians fought as 
 if they well deserved their sobriquet of " Scarlet 
 Demons." 
 
 Help did come, not from below, but from above. 
 Suddenly a cannon thundered royally, and down the 
 narrow street rushed a deathful defiance, carrying dis 
 order and dismay to the assailants, joy and wonder to 
 the nearly exhausted defenders, wonder, for well 
 they knew the gun had stood silent and unmanned 
 since the retreat of the enemy two days before, and 
 this unexpected answer to their prayers seemed 
 Heaven-sent. Those below looked up as they fought, 
 those above looked down as they feared, and midway 
 between all saw that a single man held the gun. A 
 stalwart figure, bareheaded, stern-faced, sinewy-armed, 
 fitfully seen through clouds of smoke and flashes of 
 fire, working with a silent energy that seemed almost 
 superhuman to the eyes of the superstitious souls, 
 who believed they saw and heard the convent s patron 
 saint proclaiming their salvation with a mighty voice. 
 
 This belief inspired the Italians, caused a panic 
 among the Croats, and saved the town. A few 
 rounds turned the scale, the pursued became the pur 
 suers, and when the reinforcement arrived, there was 
 
ADAM KEEPS HIS PROMISE. 337 
 
 little for it to do but join in the rejoicing and salute 
 the brave cannoneer, who proved to be no saint, but 
 a stranger come to watch the battle, and thus oppor 
 tunely lend his aid. 
 
 Enthusiastic were the demonstrations ; vivas, bless 
 ings, tears, hand-kissing, and invocation of all the 
 saints in the calendar, till it was discovered that 
 the unknown gentleman had a bullet in his breast, 
 and was in need of instant help. Whereupon the 
 women, clustering about him like bees, bore him 
 away to the hospital ward, where the inmates rose 
 up in their beds to welcome him, and the clamorous 
 crowd were with difficulty persuaded to relinquish 
 him to the priest, the surgeon, and the rest he needed. 
 Nor was this all ; the crowning glory of the event to 
 the villagers was the coming of the Chief at nightfall, 
 and the scene about the stranger s bed. Here the 
 narrator glowed with pride, the women in the group 
 began to sob, and the men took off their caps, with 
 black eyes glittering through their tears. 
 
 " Excellenza, he who had fought for us like a 
 tempest, an angel of doom, lay there beside my cousin 
 Beppo, who was past help, and is now in holy Para 
 dise. Speranza was washing the smoke and powder 
 from him, the wound was easy. Death of my soul ! 
 may he who gave it die unconfessed ! See you, I am 
 there, I watch him, the friend of Excellenza, the great 
 still man who smiled but said no word to us. Then 
 comes the Chief, silenzio, till I finish ! he comes, 
 they have told him, he stays at the bed, he looks 
 
 22 
 
338 MOODS. 
 
 down, the fine eye shines, he takes the hand, he says 
 low I thank you, he lays his cloak the gray 
 cloak we know and love so well over the wounded 
 breast, and so goes on. We cry out, but what does 
 the friend ? Behold ! he lifts himself, he lays the 
 cloak upon my Beppo, he says in that so broken way 
 of his Comrade, the honor is for you who gave your 
 life for him, I give but a single hour. Beppo saw, 
 heard, comprehended ; thanked him with a glance, and 
 rose up to die crying, * Viva Italia ! Viva Garibaldi ! : 
 
 The cry was caught uj5 by all the listeners in a 
 whirlwind of enthusiastic loyalty, and the stranger 
 joined in it, thrilled with an equal love and honor for 
 the Patriot Soldier, whose name upon Italian lips 
 means liberty. 
 
 " Where is he now, this friend of mine, so nearly 
 lost, so happily found ? " 
 
 A dozen hands pointed to the convent, a dozen 
 brown faces lighted up, and a dozen eager voices 
 poured out directions, messages, and benedictions in 
 a breath. Ordering his carriage to follow presently, 
 the traveller rapidly climbed the steep road, guided 
 by signs he could not well mistake. The convent 
 gate stood open, and he paused for no permission to 
 enter ; for looking through it, down the green vista of 
 an orchard path, he saw his friend and sprang to meet 
 him. 
 
 "Adam!" 
 
 "Geoffrey!" 
 
 " Truant that you are, to desert me for ten days, 
 
ADAM KEEPS HIS PROMISE. 339 
 
 and only let me find you when you have no need of 
 me." 
 
 " I always need you, but am not always needed. I 
 went away because the old restlessness came upon 
 me in that dead city, Eome. You were happy there, 
 but I scented war, followed and found it by instinct, 
 and have had enough of it. Look at my hands." 
 
 He laughed as he showed them, still bruised and 
 blackened with the hard usage they had received ; 
 nothing else but a paler shade of color from loss of 
 blood showed that he had passed through any suffer 
 ing or danger. 
 
 " Brave hands, I honor them for all their grime. 
 Tell me about it, Adam ; show me the wound ; de 
 scribe the scene, I want to hear it in calm English." 
 
 But Warwick was slow to do so, being the hero of 
 the tale, and very brief was the reply Moor got. 
 
 " I came to watch, but found work ready for me. 
 It is not clear to me even now what I did, nor how 
 I did it. One of my Berserker rages possessed me, I 
 fancy ; my nerves and muscles seemed made of steel 
 and gutta-percha ; the smell of powder intoxicated, 
 and the sense of power was grand. The fire, the 
 smoke, the din were all delicious, and I felt like a 
 giant, as I wielded that great weapon, dealing many 
 deaths with a single pair of hands." 
 
 " The savage in you got the mastery just then ; 
 I ve seen it, and have often wondered how you man 
 aged to control it so well. Now it has had a holiday 
 and made a hero of you." 
 
340 MOODS. 
 
 " The savage is better out than in, and any man 
 may be a hero if he will. What have you been doing 
 since I left you poring over pictures in a mouldy 
 palace ? " 
 
 "You think to slip away from the subject, and 
 after facing death at a cannon s breach expect me 
 to be satisfied with an ordinary greeting ? I won t 
 have it ; I insist upon asking as many questions as 1 
 like, hearing about the wound and seeing if it is doing 
 well. Where is it ? " 
 
 Warwick showed it, a little purple spot above his 
 heart. Moor s face grew anxious as he looked, but 
 cleared again as he examined it, for the ball had 
 glanced off and the wholesome flesh was already heal 
 ing fast. 
 
 " Too near, Adam, but thank God it was no nearer. 
 A little lower and I might have looked for you in 
 vain." 
 
 " This heart of mine is a tough organ, bullet-proof, 
 I dare say, though I wear no breastplate." 
 
 " But this ! " Involuntarily Moor s eye asked the 
 question his lips did not utter as he touched a worn 
 and faded case han^ino; on the broad breast before 
 
 o O 
 
 him. Silently Warwick opened it, showing not Syl 
 via s face but that of an old woman, rudely drawn in 
 sepia ; the brown tints bringing out the marked fea 
 tures as no softer hue could have done, and giving to 
 each line a depth of expression that made the serious 
 countenance singularly lifelike and attractive. 
 
 Now Moor saw where Warwick got both keen eyes 
 
ADAM KEEPS HIS PROMISE. 341 
 
 and firm mouth, as well as the gentler traits that 
 softened his strong face ; and felt that no other woman 
 ever had or ever would hold so dear a place as the 
 old mother whose likeness he had drawn and hung 
 where other men wear images of mistress or of wife. 
 With a glance as full of penitence as the other had 
 been of disquiet, Moor laid back the little case, drew 
 bandage and blouse over both wound and picture, and 
 linked his arm in Warwick s as he asked, 
 
 " Who shot you ? " 
 
 " How can I tell ? I knew nothing of it till that 
 flock of women fell to kissing these dirty hands of 
 mine ; then I was conscious of a stinging pain in my 
 shoulder, and a warm stream trickling down my side. 
 I looked to see what was amiss, whereat the good 
 souls set up a shriek, took possession of me, and for 
 half an hour wept and wailed over me in a frenzy of 
 emotion and good- will that kept me merry in spite 
 of the surgeon s probes and the priest s prayers. The 
 appellations showered upon me would have startled 
 even your ears, accustomed to soft words. Were 
 you ever called core of my heart, * sun of my soul. 
 or cup of gold ? " 
 
 " Cannonading suits your spirits excellently ; I re 
 member your telling me that you had tried and liked 
 it. But there is to be no more of it, I have other 
 plans for you. Before I mention them, tell me of the 
 interview with Garibaldi." 
 
 " That now is a thing to ask one about ; a thing 
 to talk of and take pride in all one s days. I was 
 
342 MOODS. 
 
 half asleep and thought myself dreaming till he spoke. 
 A right noble face, Geoffrey; full of thought and 
 power ; the look of one born to command others be 
 cause master of himself. A square strong frame ; no 
 decorations, no parade ; dressed like his men, yet as 
 much the chief as if he wore a dozen orders on his 
 scarlet shirt." 
 
 " Where is the cloak ? I want to see and touch it ; 
 surely you kept it as a relic ? " 
 
 " Not I. Having seen the man, what do I care for 
 the garment that covered him ? I keep the hand 
 shake, the Grazia, for my share. Poor Beppo lies 
 buried in the hero s cloak." 
 
 " I grudge it to him, every inch of it ; for, not having 
 seen the man, / do desire the garment. Who but you 
 would have done it ? " 
 
 Warwick smiled, knowing that his friend was well 
 pleased with him for all his murmuring. They walked 
 in silence till Moor abruptly asked, 
 " When can you travel, Adam ? " 
 " I was coming back to you to-morrow." 
 " Are you sure it is safe ? " 
 
 " Quite sure ; ten days is enough to waste upon a 
 scratch like this." 
 
 " Come now, I cannot wait till to-morrow." 
 " Very good. Can you stop till I get my hat ? " 
 " You don t ask me why I am in such haste." 
 Moor s tone caused Warwick to pause and look at 
 him. Joy, impatience, anxiety, contended with each 
 other in his countenance ; and as if unable to tell the 
 
ADAM KEEPS HIS PROMISE. 343 
 
 cause himself he put a little paper into the other s 
 hand. Only three words were contained in it, but 
 they caused Warwick s face to kindle with all the 
 joy betrayed in that of his friend, none of the impa 
 tience nor anxiety. 
 
 " What can I say to show you my pleasure ? The 
 months have seemed very long, but now comes the re 
 ward. The blessed little letter ! so like herself ; the 
 slender slip, the delicate handwriting, the three happy 
 words, each saying volumes." 
 
 Moor did not speak, but still looked up anxiously, 
 inquiringly ; and Warwick answered with a glance he 
 could not doubt, 
 
 " Have no fears for me. I share the joy as heartily 
 as I shared the sorrow ; neither can separate us any 
 more." 
 
 " Thank Heaven for that ! But, Adam, as I accept 
 this good gift, am I not robbing you again ? You 
 never speak of the past, how is it with you now ? " 
 
 " Quite well and happy; the pain is gone, the peace 
 remains. I would not have it otherwise. Time and 
 suffering have cured the selfishness of love, and left 
 the satisfaction which nothing can change or take 
 away. Believe that I say this without regret, and 
 freely enjoy the happiness that comes to you." 
 
 " I will, but not as I once should ; for though I feel 
 that you need neither sympathy nor pity, still I seem 
 to take so much and leave you nothing." 
 
 " You leave me myself, better and humbler than be 
 fore. In the fierce half-hour I lived not long ago, I 
 
344 MOODS. 
 
 think a great and needful change was wrought in me. 
 All lives are full of such, coming when least looked 
 for, working out the end through unexpected means. 
 The restless, domineering devil that haunted me was 
 cast out th en ; and during the quiet time that followed 
 a new spirit entered in and took possession." 
 
 "What is it, Adam ?" 
 
 " I cannot tell, yet I welcome it. This peaceful 
 mood may not last perhaps, but it brings me that rare 
 moment pity that it js so rare, and but a moment 
 when we seem to see temptation at our feet ; when 
 we are conscious of a willingness to leave all in God s 
 hand, ready for whatever he may send ; feeling that 
 whether it be suffering or joy w r e shall see the Giver 
 in the gift, and when He calls can answer cheerfully, 
 Lord, here am I. " 
 
 It was a rare moment, and in it Moor for the first 
 time clearly saw the desire and design of his friend s 
 life ; saw it because it was accomplished, and for the 
 instant Adam Warwick was what he aspired to be. 
 A goodly man, whose stalwart body seemed a fit home 
 for a strong soul, wise with the wisdom of a deep ex 
 perience, genial with the virtues of an upright life, 
 devout with that humble yet valiant piety which 
 comes through hard-won victories over " the world, the 
 flesh, and the devil." Despite the hope that warmed 
 his heartfMoor felt poor beside him, as a new reverence 
 warmed the old affection. His face showed it, though 
 he did not speak, and Warwick laid an arm about his 
 shoulders as he had often done of late when they 
 
ADAM KEEPS HIS PROMISE. 345^ 
 
 were alone, drawing him gently on again, as he said, 
 with a touch of playfulness to set both at ease, 
 
 " Tell me your plans, my cup of gold, and let me 
 lend a hand toward rilling you brimful of happiness. 
 You are going home ? " 
 
 " At once ; you also." 
 
 " Is it best ? " 
 
 " Yes ; you came for me, I stay for you, and Sylvia 
 waits for both." 
 
 " She says nothing of me in this short, sweet note 
 of hers," and Warwick smoothed it carefully in his 
 large hand, eying it as if he wished there were some 
 little word for him. 
 
 " True, but in the few letters she has written there 
 always comes a message to you, though you never 
 write a line ; nor would you go to her now had she 
 sent for you alone ; she knew that, and sends for me, 
 sure that you will follow." 
 
 " Being a woman she cannot quite forgive me for 
 loving her too well to make her miserable. Dear 
 soul, she will never know how much it cost me, but 
 I knew that my only safety lay in flight. Tell her 
 so a long while hence." 
 
 " You shall do it yourself, for you are coming to 
 America with me." 
 
 " What to do there ? " 
 
 " All you ever did ; walk up and down the face of 
 the earth, waxing in power and virtue, and coming 
 often to us when we get fairly back into our former 
 ways, for you are still the house friend." 
 
346 MOODS. 
 
 "I shall not disturb you yet. I ll see you safe 
 across, and then vanish for another year. I was won 
 dering, as I walked here, what my next summons 
 would be, when lo, you came. Go on, I 11 follow you ; 
 one could hardly have a better guide." 
 
 " You are sure you are able, Adam ? " 
 
 " Shall I uproot a tree or fling you over the wall to 
 convince you, you motherly body ? I am nearly 
 whole again, and a breath of sea air will complete the 
 cure. Let me cover my head, say farewell to the 
 good Sisters, and I shall be glad to slip away without 
 further demonstrations from the volcanoes below 
 there." 
 
 Laying one hand on the low wall, Warwick vaulted 
 over with a backward glance at Moor, who followed to 
 the gateway, there to wait till the adieux were over. 
 Very brief they were, and presently Warwick reap 
 peared, evidently touched yet ill-pleased at something, 
 for he both smiled and frowned as he paused on the 
 threshold as if loath to go. A little white goat came 
 skipping from the orchard, and, seeing the stranger, 
 took refuge at Warwick s knee. The act of the 
 creature seemed to suggest a thought to the man. 
 Pulling off the gay handkerchief some grateful woman 
 had knotted round his neck, he fastened it about the 
 goat s, having secured something in one end, then rose 
 as if content. 
 
 " What are you doing ? " called Moor, wondering at 
 this "arrangement. 
 
 " Widening the narrow entrance into heaven set 
 
ADAM KEEPS HIS PROMISE. 347 
 
 apart for rich men unless they leave their substance 
 behind, as I am trying to do. The kind creatures 
 cannot refuse it now ; so trot away to your mistress, 
 little Nanna, and tell no tales as you go." 
 
 As the goat went tapping up the steps a stir within 
 announced the dreaded demonstration. Warwick did 
 not seem to hear it ; he stood looking far across the 
 trampled plain and ruined town toward the mountains 
 shining white against the deep Italian sky. A rapt, 
 far-reaching look, as if he saw beyond the purple 
 wall, and seeing forgot the present in some vision of 
 the future. 
 
 " Come, Adam ! I am waiting." 
 
 His eye came back, the rapt look passed, and 
 cheerily he answered, 
 
 " I am ready." 
 
 A fortnight later in the dark hour before the dawn, 
 with a murky sky above them, a hungry sea below 
 them, the two stood together, the last to leave a sink 
 ing ship. 
 
 " Koom for one more, choose quick ! " shouted a 
 hoarse voice from the boat tossing underneath, freighted 
 to the water s edge with trembling lives. 
 
 " Go, Geoffrey, Sylvia is waiting." 
 
 " Not without you, Adam." 
 
 " But you are exhausted ; I can bear a rough hour 
 better than yourself, and morning will bring help." 
 
 " It may not. Go, I am the lesser loss." 
 
 " What folly ! I will force you to it ; steady there, 
 he is coming." 
 
348 MOODS. 
 
 " Push off, I am not coming." 
 
 In times like that, few pause for pity or persuasion ; 
 the instinct of self-preservation rules supreme, and 
 each is for himself, except those in whom loVe of 
 another is stronger than love of life. Even while the 
 friends generously contended the boat was swept away, 
 and they were left alone in the deserted ship, swiftly 
 making its last voyage downward. Spent with a day 
 of intense excitement, and sick with hope deferred, 
 Moor leaned on Warwick, feeling that it was adding 
 bitterness to death to die in sight of shore. But 
 Warwick never knew despair ; passive submission was 
 not in his power while anything remained to do or 
 dare, and even then he did not cease to hope. It was 
 certain death to linger there ; other boats less heavily 
 laden had put off before, and might drift across their 
 track ; wreckers waiting on the shore might hear and 
 help ; at least it were better to die bravely and not 
 " strike sail to a fear." About his waist still hung a 
 fragment of the rope which had lowered more than 
 one baby to its mother s arms ; before them the shat 
 tered taffrail rose and fell as the waves beat over it. 
 Wrenching a spar away he lashed Moor to it, explain- 
 ing his purpose as he worked. There was only rope 
 enough for one, and in the darkness Moor believed 
 that Warwick had taken equal precautions for him 
 self. 
 
 "Now, Geoffrey, your hand, and when the next 
 wave ebbs let us follow it. If we are parted and you 
 see her first, tell her I remembered, and give her this." 
 
ADAM KEEPS HIS PROMISE. f 349 
 
 In the black night with only Heaven to see 
 the men kissed tenderly as women, then hand in hand 
 sprang out into the sea. Drenched and blinded they 
 straggled up after the first plunge, and struck out for 
 the shore, guided by the thunder of the surf they had 
 listened to for twelve long hours, as it broke against 
 the beach, and brought no help on its receding billows. 
 Soon Warwick was the only one who struggled, for 
 Moor s strength was gone, and he clung half conscious 
 to the spar, tossing from wave to wave, a piteous 
 plaything for the sea. 
 
 " I see a light ! they must take you in hold 
 fast I 11 save you for the little wife at home." 
 
 Moor heard but two words, " wife " and " home ; " 
 strained his dim eyes to see the light, spent his last 
 grain of strength to reach it, and in the act lost con 
 sciousness, whispering, " She will thank you," as his 
 head fell against Warwick s breast and lay there, 
 heavy and still. Lifting himself above the spar, 
 Adam lent the magnificent power of his voice to the 
 shout he sent ringing through the storm. He did not 
 call in vain, a friendly wind took the cry to human 
 ears, a relenting wave swept them within the reach of 
 human aid, and the boat s crew, pausing involuntarily, 
 saw a hand clutch the suspended oar, a face flash up 
 from the black water, and heard a breathless voice 
 issue the command, 
 
 " Take in this man ! he saved you for your wives, 
 save him for his." 
 
 One resolute will can sway a panic-stricken multi- 
 
350 MOODS. 
 
 tude ; it did so then. The boat was rocking in the 
 long swell of the sea ; a moment and the coming 
 wave would sweep them far apart. A woman sobbed, 
 and as if moved by one impulse four sturdy arms 
 clutched and drew Moor in. While loosening his 
 friend Warwick had forgotten himself, and the spar 
 was gone. He knew it, but the rest believed that 
 they left the strong man a chance of life equal to their 
 own in that overladen boat. Yet in the memories of 
 all who caught that last glimpse of him there long 
 remained the recollection of a dauntless face floating 
 out into the night, a steady voice calling through the 
 gale, " A good voyage, comrades ! " as he turned away 
 to enter port before them. 
 
 Wide was the sea and pitiless the storm, but neither 
 could dismay the unconquerable spirit of the man who 
 fought against the elements as bravely as if they were 
 adversaries of mortal mould, and might be vanquished 
 in the end. But it was not to be ; soon he felt it, 
 accepted it, turned his face upward toward the sky, 
 where one star shone, and when Death whispered 
 " Come ! " answered as cheerily as to that other friend, 
 " I am ready." Then with a parting thought for the 
 man he had saved, the woman he had loved, the 
 promise he had kept, a great and tender heart went 
 down into the sea. 
 
 Sometimes the Sculptor, whose workshop is the 
 world, fuses many metals and casts a noble statue ; 
 leaves it for humanity to criticise, and when time has 
 
ADAM KEEPS HIS PROMISE. 351 
 
 mellowed both beauties and blemishes, removes it to 
 that inner studio, there to be carved in enduring 
 marble. 
 
 Adam Warwick was such an one, with much alloy 
 and many flaws ; but beneath all defects the Master s 
 eye saw the grand lines that were to serve as models 
 for the perfect man, and when the design had passed 
 through all necessary processes, the mould of clay, 
 the furnace fire, the test of time, He washed the 
 dust away, and pronounced it ready for the marble. 
 
352 MOODS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 AT LAST. 
 
 ~^T~EWS of the wreck reached the Yules some days 
 -*-^ before Moor could let them know of his safety 
 aud Adam s loss. The belief that both were gone was 
 almost too much for Sylvia, and for a week she sat 
 in the shadow of a great despair, feeling that her mis 
 takes and weaknesses had sent them to their death. 
 
 " I was not worthy of either, and God denies me 
 the reward I have worked so hard to earn. I could 
 have spared Adam. I had given him up and learned 
 to see that it was best. But Geoffrey, my husband, 
 who had waited so long, who hoped so much, whom 
 I. was going to make so happy, never to know how 
 well I loved him after all this pain and separation 
 oh, it is too hard, too bitter to lose him now ! " 
 
 This was all her thought, her lamentation ; War 
 wick seemed forgotten, the lesser loss was swallowed 
 up in the greater, and Sylvia mourned for her husband 
 like a woman and a wife, feeling at last the nearness 
 and dearness of the sacred tie that bound them to 
 gether. Death taught her in the anguish of that hour 
 how impossible it was to love any other with the 
 passion born of that pain, touched with the tender 
 memory of his past loyalty, the fervent desire to atone 
 by future devotion and the sincerest fidelity. 
 
AT LAST. 353 
 
 In the midst of this despair came the glad tidings 
 that Moor was safe and on his way to her from the 
 distant port whither the survivors had been carried by 
 the ship that saved them. 
 
 Then Sylvia fell on her knees and made a thank- 
 offering of her life, dedicating it with tears and prayers 
 and voiceless hymns of gratitude to this man saved 
 for her by the friend who loved them both better than 
 his own life, and died so gladly for their sake. 
 
 Max thought the joy would kill her, but she came 
 out of the room where she had lain in darkness, look 
 ing like one risen from the tomb. A peace beyond 
 words to describe transfigured her face, " clear shining 
 after rain," making her silence more eloquent than 
 speech, and every hour seemed to bring new strength, 
 beauty, and serenity to make the wan and weary 
 body a fitter home for a soul just entering into the 
 world of higher thought and feeling to which it had 
 attained after much pain and struggle. 
 
 "Go and meet him, Max. I will wait for him at 
 home, and give my welcome there. Come soon, and 
 tell him I have no room for sorrow, my heart is so 
 full of gratitude and joy." 
 
 May had come again and the Manse wore its love 
 liest aspect to greet its master, who came at last and 
 alone. But not to an empty home, for on the 
 threshold stood his wife, not the wayward child he 
 wooed, the melancholy girl he married, but a woman 
 with her soul in her face, her heart upon her lips, and 
 outstretched arms that seemed to hold all that was 
 
 23 
 
354 MOODS. 
 
 dearest in the world when they clasped him with the 
 tender cry, 
 
 " Thank God ! I have my husband safe." 
 
 They had been together for an hour. The first ex 
 citement was over, and Sylvia stood beside him pale 
 but calm with intensity of joy, while Moor leaned his 
 weary head against her, trying to forget his great 
 sorrow, and realize the greater happiness that had 
 befallen him. Hitherto all their talk had been of 
 Adam, and as Moor concluded the history of the year 
 so tragically ended, for the first time he ventured to 
 express surprise at the calmness with which his 
 hearer received the sad story. 
 
 "How quietly you listen to words it wrings my 
 heart to utter. Have you wept your tears dry, or do 
 you still hope ? " 
 
 " No, I feel that we shall never see him again ; but 
 I have no desire to weep, for tears and lamentations do 
 not belong to him. He died a noble death ; the sea 
 is a fitting grave for him, and it is pleasant to think 
 of him quiet at last," answered Sylvia, still tearless 
 and tranquil. 
 
 " I cannot feel so ; I find it hard to think of him as 
 dead ; he was so full of life, so fit to live." 
 
 " And therefore fit to die. Imagine him as I do, 
 enjoying the larger life he longed for, and growing to 
 be the nobler man whose foreshadowing we saw and 
 loved so here." 
 
 " Sylvia, I have told you of the beautiful change 
 which came over him in those last weeks, and now I 
 
AT LAST. 355 
 
 see something of the same change in you, as if the 
 weaker part had slipped away and left the spirit visi 
 ble. Are you, too, about to leave me, just as I have 
 recovered you ? " 
 
 Moor held her close and searched her face, feeling 
 that he hardly dared believe the beautiful miracle 
 time had wrought. 
 
 " I shall stay with you all my life, please God. 
 There will be no shadow of turning now. Let me tell 
 you why I do not mourn for Adam, and why you may 
 trust the love that has cost us all so much." 
 
 Drawing his head to its former resting-place, she 
 touched it very tenderly, seeing with a pang how 
 many silver threads had come among the brown ; and 
 as her hand went to and fro with an inexpressibly 
 soothing gesture she went on in a tone whose quietude 
 controlled his agitation like a spell. 
 
 " Long ago in my great trouble, Faith told me that 
 for every human effort or affliction there were two 
 great helpers, Time and Death. After you left me I 
 fell ill, more ill than you ever knew, dear, and for 
 days believed that death was to end all perplexity and 
 pain for me. I thought I should be glad that the 
 struggle was over, but I was not, and longed to live 
 that I might atone. While lying thus I had a dream 
 which seemed to foreshadow what has come to pass. 
 I did not understand it then, now I do. You have no 
 faith in dreams, I have, and to this one I owe much of 
 the faith that kept me up in those first hard days." 
 
 " God bless the dream then, and send another as 
 helpful. Tell it to me, love." 
 
356 MOODS. 
 
 " It was a strange and solemn vision ; one to re 
 member for its curious mingling of the familiar and 
 the sublime, one to love for the message it seemed to 
 bring me from lips that will never speak to me again. 
 I dreamed that the last day of the world had come. 
 I stood on the cliffs we know so well, you were beside 
 me, and Adam apart and above us. All around as 
 far as eye could reach thronged myriads of people, till 
 the earth seemed white with human faces. All were 
 mute and motionless, as if fixed in a trance of expec 
 tation, for none knew how the end would come. 
 Utter silence filled the world, and across the sky a 
 vast curtain of the blackest cloud was falling, blottino- 
 
 O O 
 
 out face after face and leaving the world a blank. In 
 that universal gloom and stillness, high above me in 
 the heavens I saw the pale outlines of a word stretch 
 ing from horizon to horizon. Letter after letter came 
 out full and clear, till all across the sky, burning with 
 a ruddy glory stronger than the sun, shone the great 
 word Amen. As the last letter reached its bright 
 perfection, a long waft of wind broke over me like a 
 universal sigh of hope from human hearts. For far 
 away on the horizon s edge all saw a line of light that 
 widened as they looked, and through that rift, be 
 tween the dark earth and the darker sky, rolled in a 
 softly flowing sea. Wave after wave came on, so 
 wide, so cool, so still. None trembled at their ap 
 proach, none shrunk from their embrace, but all turned 
 toward that ocean with a mighty rush, all faces glowed 
 in its splendor, and million after million vanished 
 
AT LAST. 357 
 
 with longing eyes fixed on the arch of light through 
 which the ebbing sea would float them when its work 
 was done. I felt no fear, only the deepest awe, for I 
 seemed such an infinitesimal atom of the countless 
 host that I forgot myself. Nearer and nearer came 
 the flood, till its breath blew on my cheeks, and I, 
 too, leaned to meet it, longing to be taken. It broke 
 over us, but you held me fast, and when the bitter 
 waters ebbed away we stood alone, stranded on the 
 green nook where the pine and birch trees grow. I 
 caught my breath and was so glad to live, that when 
 the next billow came in, I clung to you longing to be 
 kept. The great wave rolled up before me, and 
 through its soft glimmer I saw a beautiful, benignant 
 face, regarding us with something brighter than a 
 smile, as the wave broke at our feet and receded car 
 rying the face away to be lost in the sunshine that 
 suddenly turned the sea to gold. Adam was gone, 
 but I knew that I had seen him as he will look in 
 Heaven, and woke wondering what the vision meant. 
 Now I know." 
 
 For a moment neither spoke, for Sylvia was pale 
 with the mere memory of that prophetic dream, and 
 Moor absorbed in reading the interpretation of it in 
 her altered face. She helped him by telling what 
 God and Faith had done for her during that long year 
 of probation, effort, and hard-won success. She laid 
 her heart bare, and when the sad story reached its 
 happy end Moor stood up to receive the reward she 
 so gladly yet so meekly gave him, as she laid both 
 hands in his saying with tears now, 
 
358 MOODS. 
 
 " I love you ! Trust me, and let me try again." 
 
 No need to record his answer, nor the welcome she 
 received as she was gathered to the home where she 
 no longer felt an alien nor a prisoner. 
 
 Standing together in the hush of the pleasant room 
 they both loved best, Sylvia pointed up to the picture 
 which now replaced the weird Sisters, as if she hoped 
 to banish the faces that had looked down relentless 
 on that bitter night a year ago. 
 
 It was a lovely painting of the moonlight voyage 
 down the river ; Max s last gift and peace-offering to 
 Sylvia. He had effaced himself behind the sail, a 
 shadow in the light that silvered its white wing. But 
 the moon shone full on Warwick at the helm, looking 
 out straight and strong before him, with the vigilant 
 expression native to him touched by the tender magic 
 of the new sentiment for which he had found no name 
 as yet. Moor leaned to look at Sylvia, a quiet figure 
 full of grace and color, couched under the green arch ; 
 not asleep, but just waking, as if conscious of the eyes 
 that watched and waited for an answering look. On 
 either hand the summer woods made vernal gloom, 
 behind the hills rose sharply up against the blue, and 
 all before wound a shining road, along which the boat 
 seemed floating like a white-winged bird between 
 two skies. 
 
 " See, Geoffrey, how beautiful it is, not only as a 
 souvenir of that happy time, but a symbol of the 
 happier one to come. I am awake now, you see, and 
 you are smiling as you used to smile. He is in the 
 
AT LAST. 359 
 
 light, parted from us only by the silvery mist that 
 rises from the stream. Could we have a better guide 
 as we set sail again to voyage down the river that 
 ends in the ocean he has already crossed ? " 
 
 " No. Death makes a saint of him, may life make 
 a hero of me," answered Moor, with no bitter drop to 
 mar the sweetness of that memory now. 
 
 " Love and God s help can work all miracles since 
 it has worked this one so well," answered Sylvia, with 
 a look Adam might have owned, so full of cour 
 age, hope, and ardor was it as she turned from the 
 painted romance to the more beautiful reality, to live, 
 not dream, a long and happy life, unmarred by the 
 moods that nearly wrecked her youth ; for now she 
 had learned to live by principle, not impulse, and 
 this made it both sweet and possible for love and 
 duty to go hand in hand. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 University Press : John Wilson & Son, Cambridge. 
 
WORK: 
 
 A STORY OF EXPERIENCE. 
 
 BY 
 
 LOUISA M. ALCOTT, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "LITTLE WOMEN," "LITTLE MEN," "AN OLD-FASHIONED 
 GIRL," "HOSPITAL SKETCHES," ETC. 
 
 ; An endless significance lies in work ; in idleness alone is there perpetual 
 despair." CARLYLE. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS. 
 
 1881. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by 
 
 LOUISA M. ALCOTT, 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
 UNIVERSITY PRESS: JOHN WILSON & SON, 
 CAMBRIDGE. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTEB PAGE 
 
 I. CHRISTIE 1 
 
 II. SERVANT 14 
 
 III. ACTRESS 34 
 
 IV. GOVERNESS 56 
 
 V. COMPANION . . . 92 
 
 VI. SEAMSTRESS 127 
 
 VII. THROUGH THE MIST 146 
 
 VIII. A CURE FOR DESPAIR 170 
 
 IX. MRS. WILKINS S MINISTER 197 
 
 X. BEGINNING AGAIN 219 
 
 XI. IN THE STRAWBERRY BED 244 
 
 XII. CHRISTIE S GALA 257 
 
 XIII. WAKING UP 284 
 
 XIV. WHICH? 309 
 
 XV. MIDSUMMER 335 
 
 XVI. MUSTERED IN 355 
 
 XVII. THE COLONEL 384 
 
 XVIII. SUNRISE 398 
 
 XIX. LITTLE HEART S-EASE 408 
 
 XX. AT FORTY . . .424 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS, 
 FROM DRAWINGS BY SOL EYTINGE. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 " How doth the little busy bee " Vignette. 
 
 Christie 1 
 
 Aunt Betsey s Interlarded Speech 4 
 
 Mrs. Stuart 18 
 
 Hepsey _ 28 
 
 Christie as Queen of the Amazons 42 
 
 Mr. Philip Fletcher 56 
 
 Mrs. Saltonstall and Family 63 
 
 " No, I thank you " 86 
 
 Helen Carrol 96 
 
 Mrs. King and Miss Cotton 134 
 
 The Rescue 159 
 
 " C. Wilkins, Clear Starcher " 165 
 
 Lisha Wilkins 170 
 
 Mrs. Wilkins " Six Lively Infants " 179 
 
 Mr. Power 197 
 
 Mrs. Sterling 219 
 
 David and Christie in the Greenhouse 232 
 
 Mr. Power and Christie in the Strawberry Bed 250 
 
 A Friendly Chat 264 
 
 Kitty 284 
 
 " One Happy Moment " 305 
 
 David 309 
 
 " Then they were married " 379 
 
 " Don t mourn, dear heart, but WORK " 406 
 
 " She s a good little gal ; looks consid able like you "... 419 
 " Each ready to do her part to hasten the coming of the 
 
 happy end " 443 
 
WOKK: 
 
 A STORY OF EXPERIENCE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 CHEISTIE. 
 
 CHRISTIE. 
 
 " A TINT BETSEY, there s going to be a new Dec- 
 
 -^~^- laration of Independence." 
 
 " Bless and save us, what do you mean, child ? " And 
 the startled old lady precipitated a pie into the oven 
 with destructive haste. 
 
 " I mean that, being of age, I m going to take care 
 
 1 A 
 
2 WORK. 
 
 of myself, and not be a burden any longer. Uncle 
 wishes me out of the way ; thinks I ought to go, and, 
 sooner or later, will tell me so. I don t intend to wait 
 for that, but, like the people in fairy tales, travel away 
 into the world and seek my fortune. I know I can 
 find it." 
 
 Christie emphasized her speech by energetic demon 
 strations in the bread-trough, kneading the dough as if 
 it was her destiny, and she was shaping it to suit her 
 self; while Aunt Betsey stood listening, with uplifted 
 pie-fork, and as much astonishment as her placid face 
 was capable of expressing. As the girl paused, with a 
 decided thump, the old lady exclaimed : 
 
 " What crazy idee you got into your head now ? " 
 
 "A very sane and sensible one that s got to be 
 worked out, so please listen to it, ma am. I ve had it a 
 good while, I ve thought it over thoroughly, and I m 
 sure it s the right thing for me to do. I m old enough 
 to take care of myself; and if I d been a boy, I should 
 have been told to do it long ago. I hate to be depend 
 ent ; and now there s no need of it, I can t bear it any 
 longer. If you were poor, I wouldn t leave you ; for I 
 never forget how kind you have been to me. But 
 Uncle doesn t love or understand me ; I am a burden to 
 him, and I must go where I can take care of myself. I 
 can t be happy till I do, for there s nothing here for me. 
 I m sick of this dull town, where the one idea is eat, 
 drink, and get rich ; I don t find any friends to help me 
 as I want to be helped, or any work that I can do well ; 
 so let me go, Aunty, and find my place, wherever it is." 
 
 "But I do need you, deary ; and you mustn t think 
 Uncle don t like you. He does, only he don t show it ; 
 
CHRISTIE. 3 
 
 and when your odd ways fret him, he ain t pleasant, I 
 know. I don t see why you can t be contented ; I Ve 
 lived here all my days, and never found the place lone 
 some, or the folks unneighborly." And Aunt Betsey 
 looked perplexed by the new idea. 
 
 " You and I are very different, ma am. There was 
 more yeast put into my composition, I guess ; and, after 
 standing quiet in a warm corner so long, I begin to fer 
 ment, and ought to be kneaded up in time, so that I 
 may turn out a wholesome loaf. You can t do this ; so 
 let me go where it can be done, else I shall turn sour 
 and good for nothing. Does that make the matter any 
 clearer?" And Christie s serious face relaxed into a 
 smile as her aunt s eye went from her to the nicely 
 moulded loaf offered as an illustration. 
 
 " I see what you mean, Kitty ; but I never thought 
 on t before. You be better riz than me ; though, let 
 me tell you, too much emptins makes bread poor stuff, 
 like baker s trash ; and too much workin up makes it 
 hard and dry. Now fly round, for the big oven is 
 most het, and this cake takes a sight of time in the 
 mixin ." 
 
 " You haven t said I might go, Aunty," began the girl, 
 after a long pause devoted by the old lady to the prep 
 aration of some compound which seemed to require 
 great nicety of measurement in its ingredients ; for 
 when she replied, Aunt Betsey curiously interlarded 
 her speech with audible directions to herself from the 
 receipt-book before her. 
 
 " I ain t no right to keep you, dear, ef you choose to 
 take (a pinch of salt). I m sorry you ain t happy, and 
 think you might be ef you d only (beat six eggs, yolks and 
 
WORK. 
 
 AUNT BETSEY S INTERLARDED SPEECH. 
 
 whites together). But ef you can t, and feel that you 
 need (two cups of sugar), only speak to Uncle, and ef 
 he says (a squeeze of fresh lemon), go, my dear, and 
 take my blessin with you (not forgettin to cover with 
 a piece of paper)." 
 
 Christie s laugh echoed through the kitchen ; and the 
 old lady smiled benignly, quite unconscious of the 
 cause of the girl s merriment. 
 
 " I shall ask Uncle to-night, and I know he won t 
 object. Then I shall write to see if Mrs. Flint has a 
 room for me, where I can stay till I get something to 
 
RETURN TO: 
 
 CIRCULATION DEPARTMENT 
 198 Main Stacks 
 
 LOAN PERIOD 1 
 Home Use 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 
 4 
 
 5 
 
 6 
 
 ALL BOOKS MAY BE RECALLED AFTER 7 DAYS. 
 
 Renewals and Recharges may be made 4 days prior to the due dat 
 Books may be renewed by calling 642-3405. 
 
 DUE AS STAMPED BELOW. 
 
 
 
 
 NUV 1 v 2002 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 FORM NO. DD6 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, BERKELE 
 50M 5-02 Berkeley, California 94720-6000 
 
 FORM NO. DUO, oum, 
 
GENERAL LIBRARY - U.C. BERKELEY 
 
 80007821377