THE STORY OF SYLVIA.
 
 He stood before her with bent head." 
 
 The Story oj Sylvia.] 
 
 [Page 233.
 
 THE 
 
 STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 HAMILTON ROWAN, 
 
 Author of 
 "CAIRO: ITS HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS." 
 
 WARD, LOCK, BOWDEN, AND CO., 
 
 LONDON : WARWICK HOUSE, SALISBURY SQUARE, E.C 
 
 NEW YORK : EAST I2TH STREET. 
 MELBOURNE I ST. JAMES'S STREET. SYDNEY : YORK STREET. 
 
 1893. 
 
 (All rights reserved.)
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 I. AN ELIGIBLE YOUNG MAN .... I 
 
 II. FLIRTATION OR FRIENDSHIP .... 12 
 
 III. THE ALISONS 24 
 
 IV. AN UNCEREMONIOUS INTRODUCTION . . 32 
 V. SYLVIA HELPS HARRY TO CRAM . . .40 
 
 VI. SYLVIA'S DINNER-DRESS 47 
 
 VII. IDLE DAYS 59 
 
 VIII. SYLVIA MAKES GOOD RESOLUTIONS ... 69 
 
 IX. A MORNING PROPOSAL 77 
 
 x. SYLVIA'S AUNT 83 
 
 XI. THE HISTORY OF A KISS 88 
 
 XII. FETTERED 99 
 
 XIII. CONFIDENCES .104 
 
 XIV. A MEETING IN THE DARK . Ill 
 XV. MURRAY TALKS TO FLOSS, AND SYLVIA TO HER 
 
 FATHER . Il8 
 
 XVI. PARTING 124 
 
 XVII. AN ADAMANTINE PARENT 128 
 
 KVIII. THE MARRIAGE EVE 132 
 
 XIX. TWO CONVERSATIONS 138 
 
 XX. TILL DEATH US DO PART 144 
 
 XXI. THE END OF THE HONEYMOON . . . -151 
 
 XXII. HOME AGAIN 156 
 
 XXIII. ALMOST A TIFF 159 
 
 XXIV. GEORGE EGERTON 165 
 
 XXV. THE FIRST QUARREL 170 
 
 XXVI. A STORM 174 
 
 2229077
 
 viii CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 XXVII. THE WAY MURRAY SPENT HIS EVENING . 178 
 
 XXVIII. RECONCILIATION 184 
 
 XXIX. GEORGE WRITES POETRY 1 88 
 
 XXX. HARRY 192 
 
 XXXI. HARRY MAKES HIMSELF DISAGREEABLE . -195 
 XXXII. HARRY MAKES HIMSELF STILL MORE DIS- 
 AGREEABLE 199 
 
 XXXIII. THE EIGHTEENTH OF MARCH . . . .20$ 
 
 XXXIV. A LULL BEFORE THE STORM . . 211 
 XXXV. PUNCHESTOWN 214 
 
 XXXVI. UNDER ARREST 217 
 
 XXXVII. CRAYSHAW'S MESSAGE 221 
 
 XXXVIII. AFTER THE COURT-MARTIAL ... 226 
 
 XXXIX. HIS LAST CHANCE 231 
 
 XL. ON THE WAY HOME 238 
 
 XLI. A GRASS WIDOW . . . . . .243 
 
 XLII. A DELAGHERTY SCANDAL . . . . 2$ I 
 
 XLIII. BEYOND CONTROL 256 
 
 XLIV. UNCERTAINTY ..'... 262 
 
 XLV. MR. ALISON AND CRAYSHAW . . . 268 
 
 XLVI. CRAYSHAW AND MURRAY .... 273 
 
 XLVII. SYLVIA'S DECISION 280 
 
 XLVIII. MEETING AGAIN . . . . J . 287 
 
 XLIX. HARRY COMES TO EENAH . . . ... 293 
 
 L. A GREAT PIECE OF NEWS . . . 298 
 
 LI. THE FISHERY 303 
 
 LII. SYLVIA IS BORED ...... 307 
 
 LIII. GEORGE'S WEDDING 312 
 
 LIV. FLOSS GOES TO EENAH 32O 
 
 LV. FLOSS'S VISIT TO EENAH ... . . . .328 
 
 LVI. WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN .... 340 
 
 LVII. IN THE SNOW . 343
 
 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 AN ELIGIBLE YOUNG MAN. 
 
 "HE has three thousand a year of his own, I know 
 on good authority," said Mrs. Carr, in a tone of much 
 satisfaction. 
 
 Floss mentally reduced the three thousand to one, 
 and still considered herself in all probability above the 
 mark. 
 
 " I have only seen him once, but he appeared to me 
 a very handsome young man ; do you not consider 
 him very handsome, my dear ? " 
 
 " No," said Floss, " I certainly should not call him 
 more than rather good-looking." 
 
 " Well, my dear, I am sure I don't know what you 
 consider handsome in a man, then," said Mrs. Carr, 
 .reprovingly; "at any rate I am glad to hear your 
 brother has him so much to the house. You know 
 my interest in you, my dear Floss, and for your sake 
 I am very glad." 
 
 " I can't see why Harry's having Mr. Murray ovef 
 
 2 I
 
 2 THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA . 
 
 once or twice to shoot should give you any satisfaction 
 on my account," said Floss, a little stiffly. 
 
 Mrs. Carr drew her chair a little closer to Floss, and 
 took her unresponsive hand. Very undemonstrative 
 by nature and belonging to a most undemonstrative 
 family, the girl was always disturbed and embarrassed 
 by these caresses. 
 
 " Now, my dear Floss," said Mrs. Carr, sinking her 
 voice to a confidential tone, " you know I consider 
 you a very sensible girl, and therefore I am not afraid 
 to speak freely to you. Knowing the interest I take 
 in you for your poor dear mother's sake and your 
 own, you can't be surprised that I have often thought 
 anxiously of your future. I don't want to see you a 
 drudge all your life, and at the Elms you so seldom 
 have the chance of meeting any one at all suitable. 
 You must see yourself how desirable marriage is for 
 you I assure you this seems to me quite, a Godsend." 
 
 " I can't say that I look upon it in that light," said 
 Floss, reddening with annoyance ; " even if I wanted 
 to, I don't see how I could possibly marry, and as for, 
 Mr. Murray he is by no means the first man Harry 
 has had down for shooting." 
 
 " I hope you are not going to be foolishly prudish," 
 said Mrs. Carr, patting Floss's hand serenely; "you 
 know quite well that all Harry's friends have been 
 impossible simply impossible ! But Mr. Murray 
 and he doesn't seem to think too much of himself, or 
 to be at all stand-off, as some of those good regiments 
 are ; I hear he goes everywhere he is asked. I have 
 been trying to persuade Mr. Carr to call on them, and 
 then I could have asked him to dinner to meet you ;
 
 AN ELIGIBLE YOUNG MAN. 3 
 
 but you know how difficult it is to make my husband 
 call on anybody. I must persuade him to go before 
 our garden party ; it is so pleasant to know young 
 men who are willing to go anywhere." 
 
 " I believe they are all willing to accept invitations," 
 said Floss, with an effort to turn the conversation 
 away from Mr. Murray, which she might have known 
 from experience would be useless. 
 
 " Who cares about a married man like Captain 
 Atterly yes, I know he is married, though he has not 
 brought his wife here with him ; and the other subal- 
 tern, Mr. Shaw, is only a boy, and I don't think he 
 has a farthing. Oh, no ! Mr. Murray is the only one 
 possible, and you may be sure there will be a dead 
 set made at him. The way the Grimshaws have run 
 after him already is disgraceful, but then to be sure it 
 is a dreadful thing to have six unmarried daughters 
 and all of them so plain too. Still, I think she need 
 not be quite so barefaced about it." 
 
 Floss had by this time subsided into silence ; she 
 knew by experience that all Mrs. Carr required or 
 wished for was a reasonable appearance of interest 
 and an occasional remark. 
 
 " You know you may always count on me if you 
 require a chaperon, Floss ; I have heard that there is 
 some talk of getting up a dance in barracks. Mr. 
 Coulson was with us on Sunday and he spoke of it, 
 and if you wanted a chaperon for that ? " 
 
 " It is very kind of you, Mrs. Carr," said Floss, 
 quietly, "but you know I never go to dances." 
 
 " Oh, my clear, circumstances alter cases," said Mrs. 
 Carr, significantly.
 
 4 THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA. 
 
 " But nothing has as yet altered the fact that I 
 can't dance, and have no money to waste over a 
 dress," said Floss, serenely to all appearance, but with 
 just a little hidden pang of regret. 
 
 But Mrs. Carr's thoughts were so engrossed with 
 Mr. Murray arid the immediate present, that she 
 scarcely attended to Floss's answer. 
 
 " I rather fancy he must belong to the Murrays of 
 Perthshire the very nicest people if so. There is an 
 Arthur Murray among them who might be the same 
 I saw, in the army list, that this man's initials are 
 A. C. If so he is the eldest son, and his father must 
 be quite an old man." 
 
 " His father is dead, I know," said Floss, and then 
 she wished she had refrained from showing she knew 
 anything on the subject. 
 
 " Then he can't belong to that family, and I had 
 quite made up my mind that he did ! Well, at any 
 rate it's certain enough about the money, whatever his 
 people may be. The St. Johns you have heard me 
 speak of the St. Johns ? they knew him when the 
 regiment was at the Curragh, and they say he used to 
 hunt a great deal, which of course he could not have 
 done without money. He had something to do with 
 the Castle, Mrs. St. John thinks, and at any rate he 
 used to go out a great deal, and was very popular. 
 They did certainly say they had heard of an engage- 
 ment to a Lady Lucy something or other, but I never 
 believe reports of that kind." 
 
 " I dare say it is true, or quite as true as the rest," 
 
 said Floss, flushing a little, " I see no reason for dis- 
 
 believing it ; and really, what does it matter to us ? "
 
 AN ELIGIBLE YOUNG MAN. 5 
 
 But Mrs. Carr had the best of all reasons for refus- 
 ing to believe anything that would interfere so much 
 with her wishes for her favourite. 
 
 Floss was driven to say good-bye earlier than she 
 had intended, by the failure of all subjects to supersede 
 that of the interesting Mr. Murray, but even to the 
 last Mrs. Carr was full of him. 
 
 " I will do my best to make Mr. Carr call on them," 
 she said, holding Floss's hand ; " I should so like to 
 have him to dinner to meet you. Of course I should 
 ask Mr. Shaw as well ; I hope I am not one of those 
 people who make conspicuous advances " Floss 
 recognised this as an allusion to the offending Grim- 
 shaws " but it all depends on my being able to per- 
 suade Mr. Carr to call. If he could meet Mr. Murray 
 or Mr. Shaw and see how pleasant and civil they are ! 
 But there, I must say Mr. Carr is very obstinate when 
 he takes an idea into his head, and he sets down all 
 officers as what he calls ' stuck-up, conceited puppies ' ; 
 I have wasted my time trying to convince him that 
 Scotch regiments are quite different. Not that we 
 have ever had a regiment of that kind here, Scotch or 
 English, except once, but that he has unluckily never 
 forgotten. Certainly they were very rude ; they 
 scarcely every returned calls, and the way they spoke 
 of the people of the neighbourhood ! But, as I often 
 say to Mr. Carr, that is no reason for setting down all 
 regiments as the same ; and as for these young men 
 if they do give a dance I shall certainly speak to your 
 father about your going, Floss." 
 " Oh, please don't ! " said Floss, anxiously. 
 
 " Nonsense, my dear, you must really let me do
 
 6 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 as I like for once. It shall be managed, I assure 
 you." 
 
 And Mrs. Carr dismissed her with many nods and 
 smiles and kisses. Floss refrained from arguing the 
 question till the necessity for discussion should arise. 
 She walked home to the Elms, a little ruffled, as she 
 usually was after a visit to the Carrs. With the best 
 intentions in the world, Mrs. Carr generally succeeded 
 in nothing but thoroughly annoying her. 
 
 It was not her fault that Floss had attained the 
 mature age of two-and-twenty without having ever 
 been in love, or even had reason to believe any one was 
 in love with her. In vain had that energetic lacly 
 planned marriages for her for the last four years with 
 all the eligible young men about Delagherty ; in vain 
 had she investigated the financial condition of every 
 fresh detachment that was stationed there, and urged 
 upon Mr. Carr his duties in the- way of calling : she 
 had, only succeeded with the kindliest intentions 
 in annoying Floss, and not in disturbing the friendly 
 indifference of either side. 
 
 It was not that Floss was plain she was not pretty, 
 and her manner was too abrupt and indifferent still, 
 Mrs. Carr knew many really plain girls who had been 
 very well married indeed. It was not that she had no 
 chances of meeting men ; besides her opportunities 
 during her visits to Mrs. Carr, Floss's father was the 
 most sociable of men, and her second brother Harry 
 was the same ; they were always having men down to 
 the Elms for shooting or fishing or nothing at all a 
 very mixed set certainly, that made it perhaps as well 
 that Floss was not too susceptible.
 
 AN ELIGIBLE YOUNG MAN. 7 
 
 Yet the reason of her indifference was not very 
 difficult to find ; if Mrs. Carr had sought a little 
 further, she might have discovered it in the fact that 
 the girl had no time to waste upon thoughts of this 
 description, either in the abstract or otherwise. 
 
 The daily effort entailed by the endeavour to make 
 a very small income do the work of one of double the 
 amount, to supply the wants and look after the com- 
 forts of seven people, none of whom were willing to be 
 sacrificed to the others, engrossed Floss's time quite 
 sufficiently, leaving little opportunity for wants and 
 wishes of her own. It was seven years now since her 
 mother's death, and then Floss's girlhood had ended. 
 Her mother's task of pinching and contriving had fallen 
 on her shoulders, and very well had she borne it, but 
 it had left her no time to be young or actively happy. 
 
 Her father was the gayest and most good-humoured 
 of men, and the plcasantest of companions, but it 
 never entered his head to wonder if Floss had too 
 much thrown upon her ; she looked well and cheerful, 
 and what more could be desired ? Mr. Egerton had 
 sauntered through life without any great effort of his 
 own : he had lived very comfortably upon his income 
 in his bachelor and early married days, and he felt 
 himself hardly used in these seven children who had 
 come to curtail his comforts. It would have been 
 too much to expect him to give up any of his little 
 pleasures, and certainly his tastes were not expensive. 
 Not that he was unwilling that his children should 
 have their pleasures too ; it was upon Floss that the 
 onus of refusing any of the boys' requests was always 
 thrown,
 
 8 THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA. 
 
 " Certainly, if you wish it, it must be managed 
 somehow," he would say, and when Floss had once or 
 twice asked him how, she had obtained nothing but 
 vague words ; it must just be managed if George or 
 Harry, as the case might be, wanted it. But Floss 
 could not view things with the same cheerful con- 
 fidence. 
 
 Harry was his father's own son, thoughtless, idle, 
 and content to live in the present, with perhaps a 
 little more sweet temper and a little less selfishness 
 than Mr. Egerton. He had got through his school- 
 life with as little work and as much amusement as 
 possible, and he was at present supposed to be reading 
 at home for a civil-service exam., though the attrac- 
 tions of fishing daily proved too much for his reso- 
 lution. 
 
 George was quite different ; at school he had 
 worked hard, and he had passed brilliantly into the 
 army, but having done this, he seemed content to 
 rest on his laurels, and allow his family liberally to 
 assist his subaltern's pay. George's tastes were not 
 by any means expensive, and all of the most ladylike 
 description, yet somehow he managed to get through 
 a good deal of money, though he never failed to be 
 able to explain the absolute necessity for all he ex- 
 pended. 
 
 Then there was Billy, an overgrown boy of sixteen, 
 who was growing up rough and boorish at a second- 
 rate Irish school. But somebody must go to the wall, 
 and Floss was uncomfortably conscious that the twins 
 and Billy had been the ones to suffer. Dicky, the 
 youngest, a sharp but spoiled child of seven, Floss
 
 AN ELIGIBLE YOUNG MAN. 9 
 
 was herself struggling to instruct, with much con- 
 sciousness of her own ignorance. 
 
 Considering all this, it is not perhaps surprising 
 that she had not very much time to give to her own 
 concerns. Had she had time to spare for her own 
 amusement, money would have been wanting for 
 clothes and such necessaries money which could not 
 be spared. There lay upstairs, in a box in the lumber- 
 room, the relics of Floss's one gaiety a white dress, 
 a cheap fan, and a few ribbons. 
 
 Just at first, four years ago, it had given her a 
 pang to think of it lying there uselessly, but now it 
 was almost forgotten. She had allowed herself to be 
 persuaded into that much-thought-of ball by Mrs. Carr, 
 for her father went no further than careless approval. 
 
 She had managed to convince herself that the dress 
 could be afforded, and that the twins' jackets would 
 do very well for that winter, and consequently for the 
 rest of the year those shabby jackets had been a 
 bitter reproach to her. 
 
 Neither had the ball been all felicity : she danced 
 badly, and she was not pretty enough to counter- 
 balance this defect, nor amusing enough, being in 
 truth almost tongue-tied by shyness. It had been a 
 failure in every way, and Floss had made, and kept, 
 a resolution that her first ball should be her last, with- 
 out too much regret 
 
 She had no lack of occupation, and as for amuse- 
 ment why there was the garden to work in, which 
 required all her efforts to prevent it from degenera- 
 ting into a wilderness, since there was no gardener to 
 look after it.
 
 io THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 The Elms was a large place much too large for 
 the Egertons to keep up, with their means. Floss's 
 tidy soul suffered much from the disorder which all 
 her efforts could not restrain. The garden was a 
 large one, and she was obliged to content herself with 
 cultivating a very small part of it and letting the rest 
 run wild ; even the two long avenues were apt to 
 become grass-grown and disreputable. 
 
 In the fields around the garden Mr. Egerton carried 
 on a little perfunctory farming, which was by no 
 means remunerative, and beyond was the lake, where 
 the boys shot in winter and fished in summer, and 
 which fortunately required no keeping in order. The 
 Elms itself was a large, square, ugly house, standing 
 among a few stray trees and with nothing very par- 
 ticular about it either inside or out. 
 
 Floss sometimes felt inclined to envy the Alisons, 
 whose place was only separated from the Elms by a 
 hedge, and who, with much smaller grounds, had 
 a very much larger income, and sudi a pretty 
 house. 
 
 It was not nearly as big as the Elms, and was only 
 two storeys high ; a long, low building, with jutting 
 corners, and porticoes and quaint windows, and every- 
 thing about always so entirely neat and in order. 
 
 But then Mr. Alison had plenty of money, and 
 only one child ; he could have kept up a much larger 
 place than Heath Cottage if he had chosen, but he 
 had come there long ago in less prosperous days, and 
 did not care to leave it 
 
 Floss had to pass by the Alisons' gate on her way 
 home from the Carrs, but the vista of trim lawns and
 
 AN ELIGIBLE YOUNG MAN. 11 
 
 terraces caused her nothing but satisfaction to-day ; 
 indeed she was not given to discontent it was only 
 when the weeds would grow so unnaturally quickly, 
 and the children would play on the flower-beds !
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 FLIRTATION OR FRIENDSHIP? 
 
 FLOSS got home rather late for lunch, and found Mr. 
 Murray and Billy had come up from fishing and were 
 awaiting her. Harry had remained on the lake and 
 contented himself with a sandwich, feeling doubtful 
 of being able to withstand the united efforts of his 
 conscience and Floss if he came back to the house 
 while so thoroughly aware of the claims of a certain 
 French play upstairs. 
 
 Mr. Murray was a tall, stalwart young' man, with 
 pronounced features, and an habitually serious expres- 
 sion. Perhaps it was this expression of seriousness that 
 had made Mrs. Carr think him so suitable for sober 
 Floss, and which caused him to impress new acquaint- 
 ances as a thoroughly dependable and sedate young 
 man. He had very dark, melancholy eyes, which had 
 gained him much feminine admiration, a brown 
 moustache, hiding a certain weakness about his 
 mouth, and a very grave, deliberate manner. Murray 
 was always self-possessed, and very seldom moved 
 from his outward calm. 
 
 Floss greeted him cheerfully; she was too well 
 accustomed to Mrs. Carr to have her serenity at all
 
 FLIRTATION OR FRIENDSHIP? 13 
 
 disturbed by the remembrance of that lady's words ; 
 such matrimonial projects on her behalf always 
 annoyed her a little at the time, but were easily for- 
 gotten. 
 
 Billy was in a great hurry to get his lunch over and 
 go out again to the lake, but Murray, besides being 
 naturally deliberate and not quite so keen about fish- 
 ing, seemed on this day very well content to remain 
 where he was, and all Billy's efforts to hasten him 
 proved vain. 
 
 That youth could at length restrain his impatience 
 no longer on seeing his companion serenely proceed 
 to help himself to some biscuits, talking tranquilly to 
 Floss meanwhile. 
 
 " Look here, Murray," he said, " aren't you nearly 
 ready? Don't let us spend the whole afternoon 
 here." 
 
 " Don't let me keep you," said Murray, who in truth 
 felt he could spare Billy very well, " I sha'n't go down 
 yet ; I intend going to help Miss Egerton feed the 
 chickens first, if she will let me and in fact I am in 
 no hurry." 
 
 " Oh, don't bother with Floss," said Billy, with the 
 roughness which made his sister often blush for him, 
 " don't imagine there's any need for stopping out of 
 politeness ; you had much better come on." 
 
 " No, thank you," said Murray, serenely. And he 
 remained, rather perturbing Floss by doing so. 
 
 " You had much better go with Billy," she said, as 
 that youth departed huffily ; " feeding chickens is cer- 
 tainly not much in your line it will only bore you." 
 
 " Haven't you known me long enough by this time,
 
 14 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 to be aware that I never do anything I don't like, 
 Miss Egerton ? " he answered lightly ; " I must have 
 concealed my failings better than I imagined ! " 
 
 " Come by all means, then," said Floss ; " I will fetch 
 Dicky to help us, and then we can start." 
 
 Now there had been a time when Murray had con- 
 sidered Dicky as an unobjectionable third during his 
 tete-a-tetes with Floss, but he had very soon been dis- 
 abused of this idea. There was an excellent under- 
 standing between them at present ; Murray presented 
 Dicky with numerous boxes of chocolate, in return 
 for which that unpleasantly sharp child was well 
 aware that his absence was expected. 
 
 Floss, knowing his partiality for the society of his 
 elders, was sometimes a little surprised, but Dicky 
 kept his counsel and ate his chocolates. 
 
 That very morning Murray had taken the trouble 
 of going round by Delagherty on his ,way from 
 barracks to secure Dicky a fresh supply, and he did 
 feel it would be a little hard if he was to have 
 that small person's society forced upon him after 
 all. 
 
 " I was beginning to entertain a faint hope that for 
 once I should have you without a child as well," he 
 said, in a somewhat injured tone ; "don't you think," 
 persuasively, " that Dicky is very happy wherever he 
 may be ? " 
 
 Jt was pretty evident that the young man was 
 fairly at home at the Elms, and also that he was well 
 accustomed to have what he wanted. Floss yielded, 
 guiltily conscious of satisfaction ; and having gained 
 his point, Murray was very well content to lazily
 
 FLIRTATION OR FRIENDSHIP! 15 
 
 saunter by her side to the yard, and even to exert 
 himself to be useful when there. 
 
 The fishing on the lake was not particularly good, 
 and on the whole amusement at Delagherty was not 
 of the most exciting description. 
 
 Murray missed the life of a large barracks ; Captain 
 Atterly, who commanded his detachment, was not a 
 congenial spirit, and the other subaltern, Shaw, was 
 newly joined, and both young and green. 
 
 The election, the reason for their presence at 
 Delagherty, was over, yet nothing had been heard of 
 their departure. It was dull, but Murray was willing 
 to make the best of things. So after a morning 
 spent at the club, of which he was an honorary mem- 
 ber, or lounging about the shops with any of the 
 Delagherty girls he happened to come across, he was 
 glad enough to find a pleasant way of passing his 
 afternoons. 
 
 Floss had at first roused his interest by her abso- 
 lute indifference to his society ; she was not accus- 
 tomed to look upon Harry's friends as likely to 
 contribute in any way to her amusement, and she 
 had not the slightest desire that they should. 
 
 But Murray was of a different opinion. He was a 
 young man much in the habit of devoting himself to 
 one girl at a time, and very seldom without a special 
 friend of the fair sex. He had caused his regiment 
 much anxiety at times by the engrossing nature of 
 his temporary devotions ; they strongly objected to 
 the marriage of their officers, and felt that Murray, 
 in particular, would be an incalculable loss to the mess. 
 Latterly their fear luicl been somewhat allayed for
 
 16 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 a time by a strong flirtation with Captain Atterly's 
 wife, into which he had thrown himself after his usual 
 headlong fashion ; she was a faded but still pretty 
 woman, very willing to have a man as much the fashion 
 and as well versed in the art of warm flirtation as Mr. 
 Murray attach himself to her as cavaliere servante, 
 and they went about everywhere together, and suc- 
 ceeded in getting themselves considerably talked about 
 through Dublin. 
 
 But Captain Atterly had not brought his wife with 
 him to Delagherty when they were ordered there on 
 detachment duty, and Murray's feeling for her was 
 not of a nature to survive separation. The Delagherty 
 girls in general had a reputation for fastness which 
 he soon found did not in any way belie them, and 
 though being met more than half-way saved him 
 trouble, still there was a deplorable want of excite- 
 ment about it. 
 
 Floss's attraction at first, perhaps, consisted merely 
 in her indifference, but, as he found himself gradually 
 overcoming this, her society grew more and more 
 pleasant to him. 
 
 There was a boyishness about Murray still, in spite 
 of his twenty-six years and the extent to which he 
 had knocked about the world, and he yielded to 
 Floss's growing attraction for him heedlessly as usual. 
 He was always more than half in love with the girl 
 whom he happened, for the time being, to admire, and 
 there was an undercurrent of warmth in his manner 
 to Floss which was pleasant to her in an unrecog- 
 nised way. 
 
 So he was very well content to delay his fishing
 
 FLIRTATION OR FRIENDSHIP? 17 
 
 and saunter about with her ; so well content, indeed, 
 that when there was no longer any excuse for linger- 
 ing with the chickens, he begged to be allowed to 
 walk as far as the garden with Floss, who was con- 
 templating a busy afternoon there. 
 
 " I will take my rod and go on from there," he said, 
 " and I can carry a hoe or a spade, or whatever you 
 want." 
 
 And even when they reached the garden he did not 
 seem very much inclined to go further. 
 
 " I must really have a rest," he said, in his slow, 
 grave tones ; " you see, Miss Egerton, I am not ac- 
 customed to feeding chickens, and it is rather hard 
 work. And you must sit down too, or your industry 
 will reproach me." 
 
 There was a garden chair close to the flower-bed 
 where Floss intended to commence her labours, and 
 though she laughed, she yielded to his plea for idle- 
 ness. 
 
 " But perhaps you will be cold. I am equal to 
 fetching you a shawl, if you will let me?" said 
 Murray. 
 
 The anxious solicitude in his voice was very 
 pleasant to Floss, though it is to be feared this young 
 man would have spoken quite as solicitously to any- 
 thing in the shape of a girl. But she was not accus- 
 tomed to being taken care of or considered. At the 
 Elms it was always supposed to be Floss who had no 
 particular wishes who did not mind having her plans 
 upset, or some extra trouble imposed upon her and 
 she found it very pleasant to be treated with such 
 deference and consideration. 
 
 3
 
 1 8 THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA . 
 
 She only laughed and said : " Nonsense ! cold in 
 July ! " but she was pleased all the same. 
 
 Murray laid down his rod and established himself 
 on the grass at her feet, a favourite position of his. 
 
 " This has been the best day I have had for a long 
 time," he said in a low voice ; " I never seem to see 
 much of you now, somehow. Can I stay for dinner 
 to-night, and have a real good talk with you after ? " 
 
 "Yes, do," said Floss, and then became a little 
 thoughtful. 
 
 Murray looked at her, and flattered himself that he 
 was the cause of her grave silence and so he was, 
 though scarcely in the way he fancied. Floss was 
 just then anxiously considering the possibilities of 
 dinner with regard to the young man, and more 
 sentimental feelings were for the time shut out by 
 such vulgar and commonplace cares. From motives 
 of economy the Egertons contented themselves with 
 high tea when alone, and Floss doubted 'the practica- 
 bility of raising a dinner on such short notice, while 
 she knew her father would be annoyed if it did not 
 come up to his ideas of what was due to a guest. 
 The first thing to be done was evidently to get rid of 
 Murray for the present, and return to the house to see 
 what could be managed, and Floss awoke from her 
 abstraction to find Murray's eyes fixed upon her with 
 an expression that made her flush. 
 
 " I really can't idle any longer, Mr. Murray," she 
 said; "you must go now, and we can talk in the even- 
 ing if you have anything to say." 
 
 " How unkind of you ! " said Murray, tenderly ; 
 " why are you in such a hurry ? You would not be
 
 FUR TA TION OR FRIENDSHIP ? 1 9 
 
 if you felt as I do. Let us stay here for a little while 
 longer ; it is not often one can call oneself almost 
 perfectly happy, so let me make the most of it." 
 
 " Your ideas of perfect happiness are humble, Mr. 
 Murray ! " said Floss, laughing. 
 
 " I did not say perfect happiness," said Murray, in a 
 low voice ; " I said ' almost ' because I wanted be- 
 cause I want to ask you to make it perfect." 
 
 Floss started and grew scarlet ; in a moment a 
 thousand thoughts and hopes and fears rushed 
 through her head, his words his tone alike 
 bewildering her. 
 
 After all, the pause was a very slight one. He went 
 on : 
 
 " If you would allow me to smoke, Miss Egerton, I 
 should reach the utmost summit of felicity." 
 
 " Oh, smoke by all means," said Floss, hastily. She 
 felt bitter shame for the vague thoughts which had 
 for a moment filled her head, mingled with a worse 
 fear that Murray might perhaps have guessed the 
 meaning she had taken from his words. 
 
 " Whether you idle or not, I at least must work," 
 she said. 
 
 And she sprang up, hoe in hand, proceeding ener- 
 getically to attack the weeds, which were endeavour- 
 ing to make way among her roses. She hoped her 
 industry would have the effect of driving Mr. Murray 
 away, and leaving her free to go back to the house to 
 devote herself to the cares of his dinner, but, on the 
 contrary, the young man seemed more than content 
 to lie and watch her. 
 
 " Do you think me very lazy ? " he said. " But you
 
 20 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 
 
 can't imagine how comfortable I am, or what a luxury 
 it is to do nothing, and see other people work." 
 
 " If I tried to imagine it," said Floss, " I am afraid 
 the garden would suffer." 
 
 " And other things too," said Murray. " You mustn't 
 mind my looking at you, Miss Egerton ; I am fond 
 of observing you as a model of industry, and in faint 
 hopes that your example may have some effect upon 
 me. Still, I acknowledge that this last week I should 
 have preferred a little well, a little more repose of 
 manner." 
 
 " You know I have been specially busy," said Floss, 
 almost apologetically. " I want to have as free a 
 week as possible after Thursday, when Sylvia Alison 
 comes home." 
 
 " And who is Sylvia Alison ? " said Murray, lazily. 
 " Anything to the Alison who lives next door ? " 
 
 " His daughter," said Floss ; "she has been at school 
 in France." 
 
 " It will be pleasant for you to have a girl so near," 
 said Murray. " I suppose you are great friends ? " 
 
 " Great friends ? " returned Floss, meditatively, 
 stooping to pull up a particularly resisting weed. 
 " Yes I am very fond of Sylvia, and it is nice to have 
 her always over here, as she is when she is at home." 
 
 " You mustn't let her cut me out," said Murray, 
 carelessly ; and then, as he saw how Floss flushed and 
 grew grave at his half-joking words, the temptation to 
 speak more earnestly became irresistible at least to 
 Murray. 
 
 He raised himself upon his elbow, and let his pipe 
 go out unheeded.
 
 FLIRTATION OR FRIENDSHIP? 21 
 
 " You won't let her being at home interfere with 
 our talks together, will you ? " he said earnestly ; " we 
 get few enough as it is at least / think so. You 
 won't let them be interfered with ? " 
 
 Murray's slow, deliberate tones were very earnest 
 the more so, that for the time being he entirely meant 
 what he said, and felt as if the loss of his confidential 
 moments with Floss would give him some pain. 
 
 "If you care to talk to me " said Floss, with one 
 of her ready blushes ; " but I am sure you will like 
 Sylvia." 
 
 " If she is a pretty girl I have no doubt I shall," 
 said Murray, proceeding to relight his pipe ; " I have 
 often told you of my weakness in that direction. Be 
 a girl decently good-looking and able to speak, I fall 
 in love with her directly." 
 
 " I wish you would not call it falling in love," said 
 Floss, in a low voice ; " that must be should be the 
 most solemn thing in one's life, and this that you 
 speak of " 
 
 "You are quite right," said Murray ; " I only called 
 it so, because I could think of no other word. I know 
 very well it is nothing more than an attraction that I 
 can't resist." 
 
 " That you can't ? " said Floss, with hesitation. 
 
 " You are quite right to blame me, Miss Egerton," 
 said Murray, softly, trying to see her face. " I know 
 it is wrong, but please remember before you judge 
 me that all my life I have knocked about the world 
 by myself; I might have been a better fellow if I 
 could have remembered either father or mother." 
 
 " /judge you !" said Floss, starting.
 
 22 THE S TOR Y OF SYL VIA. 
 
 " Don't you consider it some small excuse for my 
 being a selfish, self-indulgent sort of fellow, that I 
 have never had anybody in the world to think of, or," 
 in a low voice, " to think of me ? " 
 
 " I am so sorry," said Floss, simply. She was 
 touched so far as to forget her shyness, and for a 
 moment her flushed, sympathetic face made Murray 
 lose his head. 
 
 " But such a feeling is as different as possible from 
 what I feel to you " he began with hasty warmth ; 
 " I think you" 
 
 Was it Murray's good or bad angel which interfered 
 just then ? 
 
 The interference was in an insignificant shape only 
 a spark which fell on his hand from the pipe he was 
 holding, but it gave him a sharp momentary prick, 
 and in his half-involuntary pause he had time to check 
 himself. He ended his sentence in a totally different 
 tone. 
 
 " Till I met you," he said, " I could not have 
 believed in the possibility of my spending so many 
 days with any girl without flirting with her ; , and 
 strange to say, I like it." 
 
 If this was not flirtation it was something very near 
 it, he reflected with some amusement even as he 
 spoke, but Floss received the remark in all good faith. 
 
 She took up her hoe again, unconsciously recog- 
 nising the change in his manner, and he let himself 
 fall back into his former easy position. She remem- 
 bered his dinner too, which had been forgotten for the 
 moment, and the necessity of at once attending to it. 
 Murray seemed as if he might be content to lie
 
 FLIRTATION OR FRIENDSHIP? 23 
 
 there and watch her the whole afternoon, but this 
 would never do. Floss, however, knew of a very good 
 way of securing his departure. 
 
 " Mr. Murray," she said politely, but not without a 
 feeling of mischievous satisfaction, " I am afraid I 
 must ask you to go to the garden-house and fetch me 
 a couple of watering-cans." 
 
 The errand certainly did not please Murray, but he 
 concealed his feelings heroically, and showed no sign 
 of annoyance. 
 
 " Certainly," he said, rising with an alacrity that 
 made Floss's conscience smite her for her cruelty ; " I 
 am being far too lazy." 
 
 " You will have to go round by the tank and fill 
 them there, I am afraid," she said apologetically, and 
 Murray concealed his feelings under a cheerful " All 
 right." 
 
 But when he came back he allowed himself to run 
 no danger of further errands. As Floss had expected, 
 he remembered his fishing now, and was ready enough 
 to depart. She found herself free to attend to his 
 dinner at last, and to enter into a hot discussion with 
 Dicky, in which she knew her defeat to be a foregone 
 conclusion, on the subject of that small boy's ap- 
 pearance thereat
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ALISONS. 
 
 HEATH COTTAGE was about ten minutes' walk from 
 the Elms if one went through the plantation which 
 separated them, and did not object to climbing a 
 stile and fording a stream. 
 
 Floss Egerton might sigh over the contrast between 
 the trimness on the Alisons' side of the hedge and 
 the disorder on theirs, but in truth the grounds of 
 Heath Cottage were by no means so pretty as those 
 belonging to the Elms. Certainly they were as well 
 kept as grounds could be there was never an ob- 
 trusive weed, nor a blade of grass to be seen in the 
 wrong place, but there was a want of the individuality 
 which Floss's personal efforts bestowed on the other 
 side. 
 
 There had never been anybody to disturb the 
 general neatness ; even in the days of Sylvia's child- 
 hood she had not been given to making herself 
 or anything else untidy. Any escapades she Jiad 
 indulged in had been at the other side of the hedge, 
 at the instigation of the Egerton boys. Left to her- 
 self, she had been much too thoughtful of her attire 
 and careful of her small person to run any risks.
 
 THE ALISONS. 25 
 
 Mr. Alison had come to Delagherty more than 
 twenty years ago, to enter into partnership with old 
 Mr. Greene, a timber-merchant. 
 
 The old man had only then just begun to be 
 acknowledged in Delagherty society, in consequence 
 of his very pretty daughter, who would be very rich, 
 too, some day. The Delagherty people abhorred 
 business, and Mr. Greene was undeniably and rather 
 obtrusively vulgar ; but still, there were a good many 
 impoverished scions of county families about, who 
 could not afford to be too particular. 
 
 Mr. Alison was a very handsome, gentlemanly 
 young man, though he did sell timber, also he was 
 well off, so he, too, soon found himself accepted 
 everywhere not that he cared about it. But scarcely 
 a year after his arrival he disappointed all hopes 
 by very suitably falling in love with his partner's 
 daughter. There were no possible objections to be 
 made, except, indeed, those of people who had planned 
 a different disposal of one or both, and who thought 
 it very wrong that wealth should marry wealth. 
 
 Mr. Alison took Heath Cottage and married 
 pretty, foolish little May Greene not six months 
 after he had proposed. They were very happy for a 
 time : Mrs. Alison was delighted to be asked about, 
 and she was little more than a child in years. 
 
 It made no difference when Sylvia was born ; she 
 was delighted with her child as a new plaything, and 
 always liked to have her prettily dressed, but beyond 
 that the little girl was left to her nurse. 
 
 Mr. Alison had been willing to take his wife about 
 at first, and even been pleased to do so, but now he
 
 26 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 grew to object to her entire devotion to gaiety, and 
 her indiscriminate friendships among the officers. 
 He was severe, and she was giddy and wilful : she 
 went her own way rebelliously, and he proudly left 
 her alone. 
 
 Floss could remember pretty Mrs. Alison well, with 
 her caressing ways and her blithe laugh. She never 
 seemed to feel anything much neither her husband's 
 displeasure, nor the gossip which she could not fail 
 to know she must arouse in a country town like 
 Delagherty. 
 
 And meanwhile little Sylvia became more and 
 more a miniature copy of her mother, and seemed 
 quite as capable of making the best of things in her 
 baby way. In these days the five years between 
 them had been an utter barrier to anything like 
 friendship between her and Floss ; but in pity for the 
 child's neglect, Mrs. Egerton often had her over to 
 play with Harry and Billy. Sylvia would join in all 
 their games, but it was never with the oblivion of sex 
 and comradeship of most children. She never forgot 
 for a moment that she was a little girl and that they 
 were boys, and she coquetted with them, with a 
 comical imitation of her mother's manner which often 
 caused much amusement. 
 
 But there came a time when Sylvia's likeness to her 
 mother made people sigh instead of smile. Floss 
 could not remember much about it ; she had a dim 
 recollection of her mother speaking to her very 
 gravely and telling her she must be very kind to 
 little Sylvia now, and that she must never talk to her 
 about her mother. She remembered a little wonder
 
 THE ALISONS. 27 
 
 and curiosity, suppressed by a child's instinctive 
 feeling that this was a subject on which she must 
 not ask questions, some surprise that Sylvia did not 
 wear a black dress as the little Grimshaws had done 
 when their father died but that was all, and it was 
 many years before she knew the truth. 
 
 She sometimes wondered if Sylvia, who had been 
 upon the spot, had had a nearer conception of the 
 misfortune that had come to her ; it was strange, 
 certainly, how seldom she mentioned her mother, 
 and how little she seemed to miss her, but how 
 could a child of seven years old have had any under- 
 standing of what had occurred ? 
 
 Mrs. Alison faded very quickly out of people's 
 memories at Delagherty. There was a terrible 
 scandal at first when her elopement was known ; it 
 was even more than a nine days' wonder, for the 
 heroine of the story had lived among them all her 
 life, and the man she had gone off with, a good- 
 looking, unsteady young fellow in the Artillery, was 
 well known and popular in the neighbourhood. 
 
 But it died out after a time. Old Mr. Greene was 
 dead, and Mr. Alison soon went about his business as 
 usual, facing curiosity and interest with an unchanged 
 face. As for little Sylvia, her father's indifference to 
 her seemed to have changed into almost dislike, and 
 she was more at the Elms than ever. 
 
 And for a time this was all very well ; but later 
 on, as she began to grow up, her devotion to " the 
 boys " became a source of much anxiety to Floss's 
 motherly soul. It would have been different if they 
 had grown up together like brothers and sisters, as
 
 2$ THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 they might very well have done, but this was not in 
 Sylvia's nature. Floss was very fond of her through 
 it all ; there were few people, indeed, who could resist 
 her bright, caressing ways ; but she could not wish 
 that one of her brothers should marry a girl whose 
 mother had such a history, and who was so like that 
 mother in all her ways. 
 
 Floss had felt herself like a hen with a brood of 
 ducklings during Sylvia's last holidays. She could 
 not possibly spend her whole time with the girl, and 
 the latter, who had no duties or occupation of any 
 kind, was always at the Elms, unless, indeed, the boys 
 were over at Heath Cottage. Billy's openly ex- 
 pressed devotion did not make Floss very uneasy, 
 as he was two years younger than Sylvia; neither did 
 Harry's careless friendliness he was always in love 
 with somebody or other, and all that surprised his 
 sister was that he had never as yet selec.ted Sylvia as 
 the object of his admiration. But George, who was 
 full of fads and feelings, to whom Sylvia was most 
 devoted of all, and who read her his poetry and con- 
 sidered himself aways secure of her admiration. 
 Floss felt it a providence that he was with his 
 regiment at present, though, as this was August, if 
 he went on first leave the evil day was but little 
 postponed. It was this fear that prevented her 
 from wholly rejoicing in the prospect of Sylvia's 
 return. 
 
 Mr. Alison was another person to whom his 
 daughter's approaching arrival afforded by no means 
 unmitigated satisfaction. He was a man who liked 
 order and regularity, and looked upon girls in
 
 THE ALISONS. 29 
 
 general, and Sylvia in particular, as utterly sub- 
 versive to anything of the kind. 'He liked his 
 present life ; his regular two-mile morning ride into 
 Dclagherty to his business, from which he as regularly 
 returned every evening at five. A dreary enough 
 existence, perhaps, for an active man of forty-five, 
 but he did not find it so. His old housekeeper, Mrs. 
 Kelly, knew all his " ways " for he had already 
 thoroughly established " ways " and many old 
 bachelor-like habits he liked to do exactly the 
 same thing every day, and a day's hunting now and 
 then or an occasional business journey were all the 
 variety he had or desired. 
 
 Would Sylvia alter all this ? Would she expect to 
 be amused and taken about ? Would she, perhaps, 
 wish to press him into the service ? No, to this he 
 could not and would not yield ; it would be too 
 much ; and yet he was aware it was not at all 
 impossible that Sylvia would expect it. 
 
 And then, this anxious charge of his was a very 
 pretty girl, and an heiress in a small way ; she would 
 require looking after, the more so as her mother's 
 story would render her particularly liable to gossip. 
 Mr. Alison most sincerely wished his daughter well 
 married, but till then, would it be necessary for him 
 to turn chaperon ? 
 
 All those idle young officers would be hanging 
 about the place, too ; Mr. Alison had as great a 
 prejudice against the army as Mr. Carr, with a more 
 reasonable excuse for it. And then, what was 
 perhaps the most distasteful part of it all to him, 
 he could imagine how Sylvia's appearance in Dela-
 
 30 THE STOR Y OF S YL VIA . 
 
 gherty society would cause the old, half-forgotten 
 scandal to be raked up and re -discussed. 
 
 And yet, though such were Mr. Alison's feelings 
 while his daughter's coming was still in the future, 
 on the day of her arrival he found himself yielding 
 as usual to the charm of her manner. 
 
 She was so gay, so affectionate, so serenely certain 
 of her welcome, that during their drive from the 
 station he found his objections fading away. And 
 when they arrived at home, she was so rejoiced 
 to be there, so warm in her greeting to old Mrs. 
 Kelly, the housekeeper, and so much of a child still, 
 that the future seemed less alarming. And yet she 
 was prettier than ever, even ruffled and untidy after 
 her journey. She had been pretty a year ago, at 
 the most awkward of ages, which had yet never been 
 awkward with Sylvia, but now her father thought, as 
 he looked at her, that she was almost sweeter to look 
 upon than her mother had ever been. 
 
 She was rather small and slight, with a figure 
 scarcely fully formed as yet ; she had large, soft, 
 violet eyes, a straight, short little nose, and full red 
 lips. And perhaps her greatest beauty was a cloud 
 of soft reddish-brown hair, which never would lie 
 straight, but waved and twisted all over head. She 
 caught her father's glance of mingled pain and 
 admiration as she stood in the hall, trying to smooth 
 those troublesome curls with her fingers, and smiled 
 in response. Admiration was very dear to her, no 
 matter from whom. 
 
 " Well, governor," she said brightly, " are you as 
 glad to have me at home as I am to come ? "
 
 THE ALISONS. 31 
 
 And Mr. Alison felt very guilty. 
 
 Sylvia went on briskly : " Fancy, it is a year since 
 I was at home last, and nothing seems a bit changed. 
 Do you think I am changed, Gov., and is it for 
 the better or the worse ? Would you like to have a 
 good look at me ? though I would not let any one 
 else see me after a journey. And I am awfully 
 hungry Mrs. Kelly, you have surely got something 
 for me to eat ? "
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 AN UNCEREMONIOUS INTRODUCTION. 
 
 " I THINK Miss Egerton is in the garden, sir. Will 
 you wait till I go and see ? " 
 
 Murray had not been at the Elms for three days, 
 which had become quite an unusual occurrence, and 
 he did not want to go away without seeing Floss. 
 He hesitated for a moment, and wondered if he 
 might consider himself sufficiently at home to go to 
 the garden and look for her himself, but finally 
 decided against it. 
 
 " I think I will wait," he said, " if you will kindly 
 tell Miss Egerton or Mr. Harry." 
 
 Which the maid, who was deeply interested in 
 Floss and Murray, willingly agreed to do. 
 
 " They will be coming in to tea anyway in a few 
 minutes, sir," she added reassuringly, and then pro- 
 ceeded to show him into the drawing-room. 
 
 " Miss Alison is in here, sir ; you won't mind ? " 
 she said, and had Murray wished to object he could 
 scarcely have done so, as the door was already open. 
 There was a slight hesitation in Maria's mind as to 
 whether she ought to announce Murray when none of 
 the " family " were present, and having no precedent
 
 AN UNCEREMONIOUS INTRODUCTION. 33 
 
 to go upon, she finally decided in the negative, and 
 departed, leaving him to introduce himself. 
 
 He had forgotten even the fact of Miss Alison's 
 existence till he heard her name, but Murray had 
 never any objection to a tete-a-tete with a pretty girl, 
 and a glance showed him that his present companion 
 was very pretty. She was lying back lazily in an 
 easy-chair, and started and coloured a little when the 
 young man entered, but she was no more given to 
 embarrassment than he was. 
 
 Murray bowed slightly, and there was a moment's 
 pause ; he was by no means shy, but he thought it 
 better to leave Miss Alison to speak if she wished 
 besides being naturally a deliberate person, who did 
 nothing in a hurry. 
 
 Sylvia was not at all given to silence. 
 
 " As there is no one to introduce us," she said 
 briskly, " we shall cither have to introduce ourselves 
 or sit silent : which do you prefer ? " 
 
 " It is for you to decide," said Murray, his slow, 
 grave voice sounding even more deliberate than 
 usual, after Sylvia's clear, rather loud tones. 
 
 " Then I decide against silence," she said ; " I am 
 not very fond of it at any time. I will begin by 
 informing you that I am Sylvia Alison." 
 
 " I have often heard of you," said Harry, with a 
 glance of admiration which by no means escaped 
 Miss Sylvia. 
 
 " Have you ? So far as I know, you have the 
 advantage of me." 
 
 " Still, I did not hear everything," he went on 
 softly. He knew how to stare without being 
 
 4
 
 34 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 rude, and he was making the very best use of his 
 time. 
 
 "You might respond to my self-introduction by 
 telling me your name," pursued Sylvia ; " I am not 
 good at beating about the bush, or I would have 
 tried to find out politely." 
 
 " My name is Arthur Murray, very much at your 
 service, but I am afraid I can't flatter myself that yon 
 have heard of me ? " 
 
 He looked at her as he spoke, a little curious to 
 see if Floss had mentioned him. 
 
 " Don't let it hurt your feelings if I confess that I 
 haven't," said Sylvia, smiling to him ; " it only proves 
 that your fame has not reached France, for as I 
 only came home yesterday, I know nothing about 
 Delagherty celebrities. I suppose you arc one of 
 the officers ? I think I know most of the other 
 Delagherty men they are not so numerous." 
 
 " The 73rd is my regiment," said Murray ; " I suppose 
 you know there is a detachment of us stationed here 
 since the riots ? " 
 
 " We never have anything but detachments," said 
 Sylvia, sadly; "I hope you are going to give something 
 while you are here ? When there are only a line and 
 an artillery detachment here, they say they are too 
 few to have anything. Won't you give a dance ? 
 I want to go to a dance so badly, now that I am 
 grown up at last." 
 
 " I am sure nothing would give us greater pleasure 
 if our stay here was not so uncertain," returned 
 Murray ; " but you see, we may be ordered away at 
 any moment. Shaw Mr. Shaw was talking of it."
 
 AN UNCEREMONIOUS INTRODUCTION. 35 
 
 "I am sure I shall like Mr. Shaw," said Sylvia, ap- 
 provingly ; " I am sure oh ! there is Harry's voice ! " 
 
 And Sylvia unceremoniously ran out of the room, 
 leaving Murray the deliberate considerably astonished 
 at the briskness of her movements. She was in again 
 with Floss and Harry before he had had even time 
 to think whether he should follow her or not. The 
 latter was a tall, fair, freckled youth of nineteen or 
 twenty, with a face that would have been very plain, 
 but for its expression of light-hearted good-humour. 
 Nothing ever put out Harry, or prevented him from 
 taking the sunniest view of things. 
 
 He was as frankly delighted to see Sylvia as she 
 was to see him. 
 
 " Why didn't you come and see me yesterday with 
 Floss ? " she said reproachfully, scarcely leaving him 
 time to shake hands with Murray. 
 
 " I thought I'd leave you time to rest, and look 
 forward to the felicity of meeting me, a little longer," 
 returned Harry, serenely. " How are you, Murray ? 
 It's an age since you were over. Let's have a look at 
 you, Sylvia : I must say you're no end improved 
 you used to be all arms and legs." 
 
 " Harry ! " remonstrated Sylvia, getting quite 
 pink, but not displeased. 
 
 " Well, you needn't mind, Miss Vanity ; I don't say 
 you are now. Joking aside, if you go on like this you 
 will soon be positively pretty ! " 
 
 " My dear Harry, pray restrain your too flattering 
 admiration and fetch the tea-table. I hear Maria at 
 the door and a suggestive rattle of cups," said Floss, 
 laughing.
 
 36 THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA . 
 
 Murray did not laugh ; he considered that Miss 
 Alison was allowing Harry to treat her with much too 
 great familiarity a familiarity which no amount of 
 friendship could justify. 
 
 But Sylvia did not mind at all, and appeared to 
 have ceased to take any interest in her new acquaint- 
 ance. She settled herself down beside Floss when 
 tea came in, but continued to devote all her attention 
 to Harry. 
 
 " Am I to see you all in detachments ? " she said ; 
 "where's my own familiar Billy? Why hasn't he 
 been to see me ? I felt that even more than your 
 defection, Harry." 
 
 " Am I not only too well aware of your sad perver- 
 sion of taste ? You needn't flaunt it in my face. I 
 suppose Billy thinks you had better have two days to 
 look forward to the felicity of seeing him." 
 
 " I think he took a shy fit yesterday, Sylvia dear," 
 said Floss, " and he had arranged to go down to 
 Belderry with some friends to-day, but I know he is 
 very anxious to see you. Shall I give you some 
 more tea, Mr. Murray ? " 
 
 " Tell him I am longing to see him. I shall really 
 have to reverse the proper order of things, and come 
 to pay him a visit ! " 
 
 "Well, Billy is growing up," said Harry, reflectively. 
 ' By the way, am I to consider this as a call on 
 me?" 
 
 " You may consider it whatever you like," said 
 Sylvia, serenely. " Now, Harry dear, you have had 
 quite as much tea as is good for you, so come and sit 
 in the window, and we will have a real good talk. At
 
 AN UNCEREMONIOUS INTRODUCTION. 37 
 
 present Mr. Murray and Floss have not a chance to 
 hear their own voices." 
 
 And in the window they remained during the rest 
 of Murray's visit, which was not a long one, as he 
 was engaged to dine at the Grimshaws'. He talked 
 to Floss, and looked at Sylvia, and Floss wondered 
 if it was her imagination that he was not quite so 
 " friendly," she called it as usual. 
 
 Harry and Sylvia came out of their window-seat to 
 say good-bye to him when he rose to go. 
 
 " This is nothing of a visit, Murray," said Harry, 
 with his usual frank friendliness ; " what has become 
 of you lately ? Have you been playing polo ? " 
 
 " I was at the field one day, but not playing," said 
 Murray. "I thought" speaking to Harry, and 
 looking at Floss " you might have been there ; and 
 yesterday I had two engagements in the shape of 
 duty, and a picnic." 
 
 " Well, come over for lunch to-morrow, and we'll 
 have a day's fishing," said Harry. 
 
 " I shall be very glad," said Murray " if you 
 won't think I am becoming an awful nuisance, Miss 
 Egerton." 
 
 And he smiled at Floss, very secure that she would 
 not 
 
 And then they all came out on to the steps to see 
 him off, and he took a careless leave of Sylvia and a 
 warm one of Floss. But still, it was of Sylvia's 
 piquant little face and violet eyes that he thought as 
 he walked back to barracks. 
 
 And she looked after him till he was out of sight, 
 and then turned to Floss with a laugh in her eyes.
 
 38 THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA . 
 
 " Ah, Floss," she said, " Mr. Murray seems to be 
 a great friend of yours." 
 
 "I like him very much," said Floss, steadily, though 
 she flushed a little. 
 
 " And he likes you very much. Well, I think he 
 is extremely nice, and you must put in a good word 
 for me with him, Floss." 
 
 " You silly child ! You had better go home now, 
 unless you will stay for dinner ? " 
 
 " No, not to-night, thanks. Come over for coffee 
 in the evening, won't you ? Harry, you will, at any 
 rate ? " 
 
 " All right ; I'll come over," said he, briskly. 
 
 " Now, Harry dear," Floss interposed, anxiously, 
 " what about your exam. ? You know you have not 
 read all day." 
 
 " Oh, plague take the thing ! I can't read at 
 home," said Harry, with a groan. 
 
 "Harry cramming for an exam.!" exclaimed Sylvia, 
 laughing. " That sounds too absurd. Harry dear, 
 when is your time for working, and I will come over 
 and help you ? " 
 
 " Oh, any time," responded Harry, nonchalantly. 
 
 " Or no time ! " remarked Floss. " I most sin- 
 cerely beg, Sylvia, that you will not come over to 
 Harry's assistance. It is very kind of you, no doubt, 
 but I can't feel confident of your having a good 
 effect." 
 
 " You are disagreeable, Floss, but I shall be over 
 to-morrow morning all the same, if I can find nothing 
 better to do. Well, good-night ; tell my Billy to
 
 AN UNCEREMONIOUS INTRODUCTION. 39 
 
 come and see me this evening, at any rate, if Harry 
 isn't to be permitted." 
 
 " Never mind, Sylvia ! After I have passed I shall 
 do what I like ! " 
 
 And Floss sighed at his gay, confident words.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 SYLVIA HELPS HARRY TO CRAM. 
 
 "WHERE'S Harry?" 
 
 " Why, Sylvia, you're an early visitor ! Harry is 
 in the nursery, I expect." 
 
 Floss was in the middle of a pile of clothes, which 
 covered the floor around her, and which she was 
 busily counting, preparatory to consigning them to 
 the wash. 
 
 " I can't talk to you just now, Sylvia. How many 
 handkerchiefs did you say, Jane ? " 
 
 " I don't want to talk to you in the least ; it is 
 Harry I want to see." And Sylvia sped away up- 
 stairs, heedless of Floss's remonstrance against dis- 
 turbing Harry. 
 
 Saying that he was in the nursery conveys very 
 false ideas. There was no nursery at the Elms now 
 a man of the world like Dicky certainly required 
 none but the room which had formerly been used 
 for that purpose was made over entirely to the boys ; 
 and here Floss restrained her tidying impulses, and 
 allowed any amount of litter. 
 
 Sylvia found Harry extremely busy filling cart- 
 ridges, and studying a mathematical-looking book 
 
 4
 
 SYLVIA HELPS HARRY TO CRAM. 41 
 
 which lay open on the table before him. This com- 
 bination of occupations was not particularly likely to 
 conduce to the perfection of either, but Harry was 
 relieving his conscience, and considered himself to be 
 nobly keeping to his resolution of an hour's work 
 every morning, while at the same time he forwarded 
 preparations for the approaching I2th. 
 
 He greeted Sylvia gladly as an excuse for total 
 idleness. 
 
 " Where did you spring from at this early hour ? " 
 he said. 
 
 " Well, I had nothing particular to do," replied 
 Sylvia, briskly. "And I've an invite from my Billy 
 to go with him and carry his fishing-basket." 
 
 " You and Billy will make a match of it some 
 day," said Harry, with a laugh ; " he's devotion 
 personified." 
 
 " It's been quite a long attachment on both sides," 
 replied Sylvia. " Meanwhile, till Billy is ready for 
 my services, do let me coach you, Harry." 
 
 "Well, if you feel equal to this ?" and Harry 
 pushed his book towards her. 
 
 " Now, I am quite serious," replied Sylvia, "and I was 
 thinking of your French ; it used to be very doubtful." 
 
 " I am afraid it is still. However, I'll work it up 
 all right for the exam." 
 
 " Do you expect to pass, Harry ? " 
 
 " Oh, I must I'll scrape through somehow. I 
 intend putting on a spurt next week." 
 
 Harry was of a hopeful disposition, and had been 
 intending to put on a spurt next week for a good 
 many weeks.
 
 42 THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA. 
 
 "I shall have to go and live in London afterwards," 
 he said, " all by myself, which won't be very lively. 
 You'd better come and keep house for me, Sylvia." 
 
 " Nothing I should like better," she returned. " Isn't 
 it a pity that it wouldn't be a proper arrangement ? 
 What fun we could have ! " 
 
 " Not unless I married you, I suppose," said Harry, 
 rilling the last cartridge as he spoke. 
 
 " Or unless I married Billy ; then I should be your 
 sister-in-law." 
 
 But Harry made no answer to this, and proceeded 
 to prepare his fishing-rod in silence, looking wonder- 
 fully grave and thoughtful. 
 
 He did not speak again till he was ready to start. 
 
 "Well, Sylvia, I'm off: are you coming ? " said he. 
 
 " Not without my Billy. He's kept me waiting a 
 considerable time, but, unless my hopes deceive me, 
 I hear his manly footsteps approaching ! " 
 
 And then the long-expected youth did at last put 
 in his appearance, greeting Sylvia with a fine blush. 
 
 Billy's rough words and little rudenesses were 
 entirely kept for the delectation of his family ; with 
 Sylvia he could be sweet enough. 
 
 " I am awfully sorry to have been so long, Sylvia," 
 he said, " but I have been hunting everywhere for my 
 fly-book. Dicky must have got at it when I was at 
 school." 
 
 "Better late than never, my Billy; I was just 
 refusing to go with Harry till you came." 
 
 " Of course you were ; you agreed to come with 
 me, not Harry," said Billy, tenderly. 
 
 " All right ; I'm not going to intrude myself where
 
 SYLVIA HELPS HARRY TO CRAM. 43 
 
 I'm not wanted," said Harry, solemnly ; and he 
 departed, bestowing a distinct wink on Sylvia as 
 he passed. 
 
 " You are coming only with me, Sylvia dear, aren't 
 you ? " said Billy, anxiously. 
 
 He was, as a rule, blissfully unconscious that Sylvia 
 did not quite estimate his attentions at their due value, 
 and in truth she did not wholly despise even Billy's 
 admiration. She was not content without liking and 
 admiration from everybody, and she found such open 
 worship very pleasant even from a boy. 
 
 She was flattered as well as amused when he shyly 
 presented her with a rose he had gathered for her, 
 and still more shyly requested her to give him a kiss 
 for it. She declined the kiss, but it is a question 
 whether Billy was not as much gratified by being told 
 that he was too old for such things as he would have 
 been had she granted his request. 
 
 Sylvia spent that day on the lake with the boys, 
 and of course she could not be expected to go away 
 when Murray appeared. Equally of course, as he 
 was the stranger it was only natural that she should 
 devote the greater part of her attention to him. And 
 then, later on, it was only to be expected that he 
 should see her home, when it was quite on his way to 
 barracks, and that they should linger a little at Heath 
 Cottage gate before they parted. 
 
 At any rate, by the time they had shaken hands and 
 said good-bye, Sylvia found that she had barely long 
 enough to get ready for dinner, and she knew Mr. 
 Alison's dislike of unpunctuality. However, she did 
 just manage to be downstairs by the time the gong
 
 44 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 went, and during dinner she devoted herself to being 
 agreeable to her father, which, it must be acknowledged 
 was by no means unusual to Miss Sylvia. She was 
 quite willing to take a little trouble to amuse her 
 father, and she did her best to think of subjects that 
 she considered likely to interest him. This was during 
 the progress of dinner, but when dessert made its 
 appearance, Sylvia bethought her of a little business 
 of her own which she was desirous of transacting. 
 
 " Gov. dear," she said in her sweetest tones, when 
 the butler had retired, and they were left alone, "must 
 I catch my own eye and retire, or may I stay with 
 you if I am very good ? " 
 
 " Of course I shall be very glad if you will stay 
 with me, my dear," responded Mr. Alison, politely. 
 
 "Then you shall turn round to the fire, and I 
 will fetch you your cigarettes ; or if you like the 
 vulgar and low, as there is no one else but me here, I 
 will even let you have a pipe," said Sylvia, suavely. 
 
 She was aware that she looked very pretty in her 
 plain white frock and blue ribbons, and felt it to be 
 rather a pity that her attractions should all be wasted 
 on a man who appeared to appreciate them as little 
 as her father. But there was perhaps more apprecia- 
 tion than she was aware of in his dark eyes, as he 
 watched her flit about the room, attending to his 
 wants. 
 
 Finally she came and settled down beside him. 
 
 " Gov.," she said, after a short pause, " don't you 
 think you ought to call at barracks ? " 
 
 Mr. Alison started and frowned : he had had a pre- 
 monition of this even before Sylvia's return.
 
 SYLVIA HELPS HARRY TO CRAM. 45 
 
 " I don't see the slightest necessity for it," he said. 
 " I called on Captain Hallam after I met him at the 
 club, and I haven't the smallest desire to know any 
 of the others." 
 
 "I dare say not," said Sylvia, with unruffled serenity, 
 " but then you see, Gov., such things have to be done 
 sometimes." 
 
 " I am sorry if you wish it, Sylvia," said Mr. Alison 
 in what he meant for resolute tones, " but I really 
 have no wish to have a lot of young men fooling 
 about the place, and I haven't the least intention of 
 calling at barracks." 
 
 " Oh, very well, Gov.," said Sylvia, meekly ; " of 
 course it is just as you like, only it is rather unpleasant 
 for me." 
 
 " Unpleasant for you ! Nonsense ! What on earth 
 makes you so anxious to know three or four silly 
 young men ? " 
 
 " It is not that f " said Sylvia, reproachfully, " but 
 don't you see, Gov., wherever I go, even to the 
 Egertons, I am sure to meet some of the officers. It 
 is not that I want them here, but you see, it makes it 
 awkward for me when you have not called." 
 
 " I don't see it at all." . 
 
 " Besides, I thought you would think it right to 
 know something about my friends, and to look after 
 me a little," pursued Sylvia, sweetly. " And then you 
 see, Governor," she added, caressingly, " I am rather 
 proud of my father, and I like my friends to know 
 him." 
 
 She laid her hand upon his knee, and looked 
 innocently up at him.
 
 46 THE STOR Y OF S YL VIA. 
 
 " You little monkey ! " he said, half-laughing, " you 
 are not going to flatter anything out of me ! " 
 
 " It is just as you think right," said Sylvia, meekly. 
 
 " I suppose it is this new detachment, the 73rd, that 
 you want me to call upon ? " he said. 
 
 Perhaps after all Sylvia might be right ; possibly 
 he ought to know something of her friends. 
 
 " Mr. Murray is such a friend of the Egertons." 
 
 " What, the grave young fellow with a big nose ? " 
 
 " What a flattering description, Gov.," said Sylvia, 
 laughing ; " but to tell the truth, he is such a great 
 friend of Floss' that I should like him to come 
 here." 
 
 " What do you want him here for ? He had much 
 better goto the Egertons if that is the case. Not that 
 I've any objection to him. I have played pool with 
 him, and he seemed pleasant enough." 
 
 " I should like Floss to meet him here, Gov. dear. 
 You will call, won't you ? " 
 
 " Well, I'll see about it. But mind, if I do, I decline 
 to have half the barracks putting in their spare time 
 hanging about the place. Of course if you mean that 
 Mr. Murray cares for Floss Egerton, it is different." 
 
 And then Sylvia knew that her point was gained.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 SYLVIA'S DINNER-DRESS. 
 
 " RUN into the next room, Dicky, and see who has 
 driven up. I do hope it is not a visitor, just when 
 I am so busy." 
 
 And Floss sighed, and returned to the task of 
 inspecting Billy's clothes, to see if they could by any 
 possibility be made to last over his next term at school 
 
 Dicky was delighted with any errand during lesson- 
 time, though on other occasions rather given to 
 grumble. He ran off, spelling-book in hand, and 
 returned in a few minutes. 
 
 " It is Sylvia, Floss," he said ; "she is driving her 
 ponies, and she says you must come this very instant" 
 
 " Tell her I can't," said Floss, and Dicky again 
 vanished, for an equally brief space of time. 
 
 " She says you must speak to her at any rate," he 
 said on his second return, in tones which were jubilant 
 from the prospect of a longer release. 
 
 " Well, I suppose I must go," said Floss, unwillingly ; 
 " sit still, and learn down to ' disgrace,' till I come 
 back." 
 
 But Dicky saw fit to disregard this command, and 
 followed Floss downstairs at a discreet distance.
 
 48 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 Sylvia was in her phaeton, looking extremely 
 pretty and dainty, in a very simple blue dress and 
 sailor hat Simple as her attire looked, however, she 
 had brought it from Paris, and it formed one of the 
 items in a bill over which her father had whistled, half 
 in dismay, half in amusement, at the results of his 
 daughter's first emancipated shopping. 
 
 " Now, Floss," she said briskly, " I have got to go 
 into Delagherty, and you must come with me." 
 
 " Sylvia, it is quite impossible ! " said Floss ; " I am 
 busy with Billy's clothes." 
 
 " Billy's clothes ! nonsense ! Why he doesn't go 
 back to school till the 8th of September ! My busi- 
 ness is much more urgent. You know we dine at the 
 Carrs' to-morrow, and they have never sent my dress 
 from Lees'. Just think, Floss, my very first dinner- 
 dress ! You must take an interest in that." 
 
 " Well, why can't you go in by yourself, or wait till 
 the afternoon ? " 
 
 " You know the Gov. hates my going in to Dela- 
 gherty by myself, and besides, I want you to help to 
 decide about my sash. There, Floss dear, do be 
 sweet, and come with me. We will lunch in town, 
 and be back early in the afternoon." 
 
 " But I am really very busy, and besides you will 
 have to wait till I change my dress, you know." 
 
 And Floss looked doubtfully at her well-worn grey 
 cotton gown. 
 
 " Nonsense, you look ever so nice, and the ponies 
 won't stand. You are the dearest, sweetest most 
 obliging girl, Floss ! Just put on your hat and gloves, 
 and you will be fit for anything."
 
 SYLVIA 'S DINNER-DRESS. 49 
 
 Floss retreated to obey, unwillingly enough, and 
 Sylvia lay back in the phaeton, serenely flicking the 
 flies off the ponies harness' with her whip. 
 
 " Take me, Sylvia ! " pleaded Dicky, climbing into 
 the phaeton beside her. 
 
 " Take you, indeed ! " said Sylvia, with whom the 
 small boy was no favourite ; " run away to your 
 lessons, Dicky, and don't be tiresome." 
 
 " I can't do my lessons when Floss is away," per- 
 sisted Dicky. " Do take me, Sylvia." 
 
 "You'll fall out and be killed if the phaeton moves; 
 and see how Brownie is fidgeting. A nice figure you 
 would be to go into Delagherty just look at the ink 
 down the front of your coat ! " 
 
 Dicky surveyed his shabby jacket ruefully. 
 
 " I could put on my ulster ? " he suggested. 
 
 " Don't bother any more," said Sylvia, sweet but 
 unyielding. " See, here is Floss ; you had better get 
 down before she sees how you have inked yourself." 
 
 And Dicky thought it most prudent to follow this 
 advice and return to the ground, muttering some- 
 thing in a grumbling tone, of which only the words 
 " Mr. Murray " and " chocolate " were distinguishable. 
 
 " Now, Floss, are you ready? " said Sylvia, briskly. 
 
 "Yes, I think so. Dicky, run in and finish your 
 spelling like a good boy, and then go out to the twins 
 in the garden. And see, here are the keys ; be careful 
 of them, and give them to Harry at lunch-time, if papa 
 is not in." 
 
 And then Sylvia drove off, giving no time for 
 further directions, and leaving Dicky standing, a 
 small, sturdy figure, all by himself. 
 
 5
 
 50 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 Floss was able to enjoy the drive, in spite of her 
 annoyance at the interruption, and her consciousness 
 that it would necessitate a busy afternoon ; but it was 
 delicious to drive along in the sunshine, and a pleasure 
 she did not enjoy very often now, for, except for 
 the Shetland pony and cart, which drew the twins 
 to school every day, the Egertons' stables had been 
 empty for three years. 
 
 And then Sylvia, in her sweetest and brightest of 
 humours, was a very pleasant companion. Floss was 
 quite sorry when they got to Delagherty. 
 
 " We had better drive to the stables and put up at 
 once," said Sylvia ; " and then we can go to Lees', and 
 lunch at Weldon's at half-past one." 
 
 " I don't see that we need go to Weldon's," remon- 
 strated Floss. " There are always a lot of men about 
 there, especially about half-past one. A bun would 
 do very well till we get home." 
 
 " Perhaps it might content you, but I assure you I 
 haven't the least inclination to lunch on a bun ! " 
 said Sylvia, laughing. " What harm will the men do 
 us ? Weldon's is the only place in Delagherty where 
 one can get a decent lunch." 
 
 " Very well," said Floss ; " but come on now, and 
 let us go to Lees'." 
 
 " Don't hurry along so fast," remonstrated Sylvia ; 
 " it is awfully hot ; and besides, I have not been in 
 Delagherty since I came home, and I want to see if 
 there are any changes in the shop windows." 
 
 " It is very hot, but I did not think I was walking 
 fast," said Floss. 
 
 Sylviawaslookingatthewrongsidefor shop windows.
 
 SYLVIAS DINNER-DRESS. 51 
 
 " Do you see Charley Morris in his office, Floss ? 
 I wonder does he see us, and will he come down if 
 he does ? " 
 
 "Don't stare up at the window like that," said 
 Floss, sharply ; " I am sure you haven't the least 
 wish for Charley Morris to come down at least, I 
 know / haven't." 
 
 " And there's Mr. Dent coming oh, he has gone 
 into the post-office. Floss, I really want some stamps 
 badly." 
 
 And before she had time to remonstrate, Floss 
 found herself, much against her will, in the post- 
 office, shaking hands with Mr. Dent. 
 
 And even when this little episode was over, Sylvia 
 still insisted on lingering on her way to Lees'. 
 
 " There's young Johnstone on the other side of the 
 street oh, Floss, who was that good-looking man 
 who bowed to you just now ? " 
 
 " Only Mr. Kennedy, of the Artillery," said Floss, 
 impatiently; "do come on, Sylvia." 
 
 " Why did you not stop him and introduce him to 
 me?" 
 
 " My dear Sylvia ! Partly because I hadn't the 
 least wish to, and partly because I know him so 
 slightly that he would have been very much aston- 
 ished if I had," said Floss. " Here we are at Lee's at 
 last." 
 
 " Let us hurry, and perhaps we may have time to 
 go down to the Gov.'s office before lunch," suggested 
 Sylvia. 
 
 " Down among the quays ? Unless you want to 
 see Mr. Alison particularly, I think we had much
 
 52 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 better not go there either before or after lunch," said 
 Floss. 
 
 " Not go down to my own father's office ! " ex- 
 claimed Sylvia. " Why, the Grimshaws are always 
 going to their cousin's office, and that is on the quays 
 too." 
 
 " There won't be time, at any rate," said Floss ; 
 " and really, Sylvia, if you have come with the 
 intention of ' doing ' Delagherty in this fashion, you 
 had much better get the Grimshaws to go with you, 
 for I won't." 
 
 Floss's words and tone were very unlike her usual 
 way of speaking, but she was vexed and annoyed 
 with Sylvia, and still hot all over from the conscious- 
 ness of their hurried pursuit of Mr. Dent into the 
 post-office. 
 
 Sylvia looked at her in surprise. " Oh, well, if you 
 are going to be cross ! " she said, shrugging her 
 shoulders ; and a few minutes later she was entirely 
 engrossed with her dress. 
 
 It was indeed a very important matter, that first 
 really grown-up evening dress, and Sylvia was only 
 aroused from the consideration thereof by becoming 
 aware that it was nearly half-past one. 
 
 " We must go and have lunch, and then I can come 
 back and choose the lace and ribbons afterwards," she 
 said at once. 
 
 Weldon's was full, as Floss had expected, but 
 Sylvia would not hear of the ladies' room. 
 
 " The dullest place ! " she said, and Floss could not 
 but agree with her. 
 
 " We will choose a retired corner, and then we will
 
 SYLVIA'S DINNER-DRESS. 53 
 
 be all right," said Sylvia, and they did manage to 
 secure a table in the recess of a window. 
 
 " What will you have, Floss ? Only coffee and 
 buns ? Oh, I will have let me see some chicken 
 and lemonade. Do you see any one you know ? " 
 
 " Nobody but Graham, the shop-boy from Irwin's. I 
 suppose you would not care to be introduced to him ? " 
 
 " Now, Floss dear, don't be satirical ! It doesn't 
 suit you at all," said Sylvia, serenely. " I didn't 
 know VVeldon's was patronised by oh, there is Mr. 
 Murray ! " 
 
 Sylvia half sprang from her seat, her eyes sparkling 
 with excitement, and Floss became all at once aware 
 of an odd, pained feeling in the suspicion, almost 
 amounting to certainty, that the young man's appear- 
 ance was not due to accident. None of the officers 
 came to Wcldon's to lunch. 
 
 He was in forage jacket and trews, and was accom- 
 panied by Mr. Shaw, a small, fair youth, who had 
 seen Sylvia once before, and been immensely smitten. 
 Mr. Murray came up and shook hands. 
 
 " This is a pleasant surprise," he said. " I have 
 been on duty, and am now on my way to the tailor's 
 with Mr. Shaw. Miss Alison, may I introduce Mr. 
 Shaw, and may we lunch at your table ? " 
 
 " Your good deeds, or rather intentions, have gone 
 before you, Mr. Shaw," said Sylvia, sweetly. " I have 
 always declared I should like you since I heard that 
 you wanted to give a dance haven't I, Mr. Murray? " 
 
 " I am sure Shaw feels immensely flattered," said 
 Murray, pitying that youth's confusion at this 
 address.
 
 54 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 The conversation remained almost entirely between 
 Sylvia and Murray. Mr. Shaw was shy, and rather 
 taken aback by Sylvia's remarks, and Floss was 
 annoyed at being entrapped into what she could not 
 but conclude was an arranged meeting. This was 
 the feeling she acknowledged to herself, and there 
 mingled with it a less clearly defined sensation of 
 distress and irritation as she observed the perfect 
 understanding between Sylvia and Murray. So she 
 drank her coffee, and said little. 
 
 "Now," said Murray, seeing that Floss had begun 
 to put on her gloves, preparatory to making a move, 
 " what were you thinking of doing this afternoon ? " 
 
 " Nothing particular," said Sylvia, hastily. " We 
 did our shopping in the morning." 
 
 " Mr. Shaw and I were thinking it is band day at 
 barracks, and if you would let us escort you ? " 
 
 " Sylvia," Floss interposed quietly, " you know we 
 have to go back to Lees', and I must be home early." 
 
 " I don't know anything about your having to be 
 home early," said Sylvia ; " but as for Lees', it will 
 not take us a minute. It would be fun to go, wouldn't 
 it, Floss ? " 
 
 " It is utterly out of the question," said Floss, 
 abruptly, and rising as she spoke. 
 
 "There will be plenty of ladies there, I assure you, 
 Miss Egerton," said Murray, deprecatingly. 
 
 " Yes," said Sylvia, " it is quite absurd ! Everybody 
 goes." 
 
 " And nobody will know who you have come with," 
 added Murray a remark which, upon reflection, he 
 would have preferred to leave unsaid.
 
 SYLVIA'S DINNER-DRESS. 55 
 
 " I am sorry, Sylvia, but I don't think we could 
 go like that," said Floss, speaking more in her usual 
 tone. ' "We had better go back to Lees' now, I 
 think." 
 
 " Well, at least we can see you so far on your way," 
 said Murray; and when they started, he and Sylvia fell 
 behind in the most natural way possible. Sylvia was 
 annoyed annoyed, too, with Murray, for apparently 
 taking things so tranquilly. 
 
 " I have half a mind to go by myself," she had 
 muttered defiantly, for Floss's special benefit, but 
 she knew very well that this was impossible. Still, 
 it was distinctly annoying to find that Murray did 
 not seem to share cither her disappointment or her 
 anger with Floss. He was as cheerful as possible 
 insisting, despite all military regulations, in taking 
 possession of all Sylvia's parcels, and Floss's too, 
 before they left Weldon's. Captain Atterly was 
 lunching with the Grimshaws, he assured his com- 
 panions, laughingly, so there was no chance of his 
 being caught in the act. 
 
 He said this half to Floss, and did not seem to be 
 at all offended with her. 
 
 " Isn't it scorchingly hot ? " was his very original 
 remark when they got out to the street, made in, if 
 anything, a more cheerful voice than usual. 
 
 This was a nice way of taking advantage of their 
 first opportunity of being alone together, Sylvia 
 thought but she was too full of her grievance to 
 endure this descent to commonplaces. 
 
 " Isn't it annoying of Floss ? " she said. " I should 
 have liked to go so much."
 
 56 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 " Yes, it would have been very nice," said Murray, 
 without enthusiasm. 
 
 " I believe she guesses that I arranged to meet 
 you, and is angry about it," pursued Sylvia, "and 
 that is partly why she won't go." 
 
 Murray was silent. 
 
 " Don't you think so ? " said Sylvia, impatiently. 
 " I declare I don't believe you wanted us to go to 
 barracks ! " 
 
 "You know very well that I did, Miss Alison," 
 said Murray, softly ; " but after all, I am not sure 
 that your coming to barracks with only Shaw and 
 me would not have been rather a mistake. You 
 see this is such a gossiping little place." 
 
 Sylvia flushed crimson. 
 
 " That comes very well from you, when you asked 
 us to go ! " she said, angrily. 
 
 " Don't be vexed with me, Miss Alison," said 
 Murray, in a low voice ; " it is because you don't 
 understand what an awful little hole for gossip this 
 is." 
 
 " Much I care what people say ! " said Sylvia 
 indignantly. 
 
 " But / care, for your sake," said Murray. " I have 
 been vexed with myself for asking you to meet me 
 and" 
 
 " Oh, you think Floss right there, too ? " said 
 Sylvia, sharply. " I have no doubt you think me 
 forward, and " 
 
 " Miss Alison," said Murray, turning his grave eyes 
 full on her flushed, indignant face, with that tender 
 look in them which Floss had known so well, " I
 
 SYLVIA'S DINNER-DRESS. 57 
 
 wonder have you any idea what I really do think of 
 you? And as far as to-day is concerned, I blame 
 myself for taking advantage of your innocence." 
 
 This was not exactly the way to conciliate Sylvia. 
 Her indignation was immensely increased by being 
 suspected of innocence! 
 
 " You have no idea how I have heard fellows talk 
 of some of the girls about here, and it would hurt me 
 more than I can say" He paused. 
 
 " Well, now you have a chance to talk about me !" 
 said Sylvia, with a wrathful laugh. 
 
 Murray looked at her reproachfully. 
 
 " And you can compare my conduct with that of 
 your paragon, Miss Egerton ! " added Sylvia. 
 
 " I do think a great deal of Miss Egerton, and 
 admire her very much," said Murray, deliberately, 
 " but" 
 
 " Then it is a great pity you did not walk up from 
 Wcldon's with her, and leave me to make Mr. Shaw's 
 acquaintance," said Sylvia, still indignant. " Why on 
 earth did you not walk with her ? I am sure I was 
 most willing that you should." 
 
 Murray allowed so long a pause to elapse before 
 he spoke, that they were only a few steps from Lees', 
 where the other two were waiting by the door. 
 
 Consequently he was obliged to lower his voice 
 still more. 
 
 " I did not walk with her," he said, in the slow, grave 
 voice which made all his speeches doubly impressive, 
 " because I preferred to walk with you because I 
 would rather walk with you than with any one in the 
 world."
 
 58 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 And then they came up to the others, and the two 
 young officers said good-bye. 
 
 " We shall meet to-morrow evening at the Carrs'," 
 said Murray, trying to see Sylvia's averted face. 
 
 " I am very sorry you can't come down to 
 barracks," said Mr. Shaw to Sylvia, and she turned 
 to him with a warmth which she felt ought to annoy 
 Murray, though it is to be feared it only caused him 
 a secret smile. 
 
 Sylvia was as sulky as her naturally sweet temper 
 would allow her to be. She finished her shopping, 
 appealing to Floss for no word of advice, and then 
 they walked down to the stables in silence. 
 
 Neither of them spoke till they had driven out of 
 Delagherty and found themselves on the shady road, 
 with its straggling, sweet-smelling hedges. 
 
 Floss was repentantly conscious of her sharpness 
 with Sylvia, and aware that she had allowed herself 
 to become unnecessarily irritated. She began depre- 
 catingly : " Sylvia dear, I am very sorry, but I don't 
 think we could very well have gone. We must get 
 Mrs. Carr or papa to take us some day, if you would 
 really care to go." 
 
 " I am sure I don't see what sin we would have 
 committed by going with Mr. Shaw and Mr. Murray 
 to-day," said Sylvia. 
 
 " It just wouldn't have done," said Floss. " I am 
 sorry I was so sharp about it, Sylvia, but I do think 
 I was right." 
 
 And then Sylvia's natural sweet temper conquered, 
 and she became bright and caressing all in a moment, 
 with a suddenness which was always a surprise to Floss.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 IDLE DAYS. 
 
 MRS. CARR'S dinner-party duly came off next day, 
 and some, at least, of her guests found it very 
 pleasant, though it was hardly a success from the 
 hostess's point of view. Mrs. Carr had a most 
 genuine pity and affection for Floss, mingled perhaps 
 with a little harmless weakness for match-making, 
 and ever since the girl was eighteen, her would-be 
 patroness had suffered at intervals from having her 
 best-laid projects disturbed by the intractability of 
 her prottgte. 
 
 However, she had never allowed herself to become 
 discouraged. She doubted not that the right man 
 would come some day, and if he made his appearance 
 in the shape of a good-looking, rich young fellow like 
 Murray well, so much the better : Floss should not 
 lose the opportunity through want of Mrs. Carr's 
 assistance. 
 
 Everything went well at first. Mrs. Carr had 
 arranged that Murray should take Floss in to dinner, 
 and when she was able to glance in their direction, 
 she saw that conversation certainly did not seem to 
 
 59
 
 60 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 flag between them, and as far as she could judge, 
 both seemed content with their position. 
 
 But it would have been wiser on Mrs. Carr's part 
 not to have placed Sylvia and Mr. Shaw just opposite 
 Sylvia looking prettier than ever in all the sparkle 
 and excitement of her first dinner-party, talking to 
 Mr. Shaw with even more animation than usual, and 
 showing Murray that he was not yet forgiven, by 
 carefully abstaining from a glance in his direction. 
 
 Perhaps this added something to his devotion to 
 Floss, but, in any case, he was always pleased to talk 
 to her. 
 
 As for Floss herself, before dinner was over she 
 began to believe that it was chance that had made 
 their being together less frequent than usual lately 
 chance, magnified by her imagination. 
 
 He had said as they went downstairs : " I am very 
 sorry I asked you to come to barracks yesterday, 
 Miss Egerton, but it is so long since I have had a 
 chance of talking to you." 
 
 And then Floss Floss, whom her family looked 
 upon as a model of common sense Floss began to 
 believe that it was she whom Murray had wished to 
 talk to, and that he had after all never been untrue 
 to their "friendship." As for Murray, he said to 
 himself that it was all quite true he had not had a 
 talk with her for a long time, he did enjoy talking to 
 her, and probably would have done so if they had 
 gone to barracks. And, in truth, he did not think 
 much of such an ordinarily civil speech at all. But 
 then, he hardly knew how much his manner added to 
 his simplest words.
 
 IDLE DA YS. 61 
 
 But Mrs. Carr thought everything was going 
 marvellously well. Even after dinner, when the 
 men came into the drawing-room all seemed right. 
 It was a lovely night, and almost everybody had 
 strolled out to the lawn. Sylvia and Floss were 
 together, and after a time Murray seemed to join 
 them naturally enough. Mr. Shaw had gone to 
 them immediately Sylvia had succeeded in making 
 an impression, though perhaps not a very deep one, 
 on his susceptible heart but Murray stayed talking, 
 first to one and then to another, while Sylvia scarcely 
 concealed her impatience and indignation at his want 
 of haste. Finally he found himself beside them in 
 the most natural manner possible, and Mrs. Carr saw 
 that he addressed himself first to Floss, and was 
 content. 
 
 It was not till everybody was summoned into the 
 drawing-room to listen to a duet from the Miss 
 Grimshaws, that Mrs. Carr discovered that Mr. Shaw 
 and Miss Egerton were in the room, whilst Sylvia 
 and Murray were nowhere to be seen. 
 
 She crossed over to Floss when the duet was over, 
 and a pianoforte solo about to begin. 
 
 " Where is Miss Alison ?" she said, in tones of dis- 
 pleasure. " It is getting too cold to be out of doors." 
 
 " I don't know. I dare say she is on the lawn," 
 said Floss. " I am sure she will be in in a few 
 minutes." 
 
 But some of the guests had already begun to 
 depart before the graceless pair made their appear- 
 ance, Sylvia just a little abashed, but radiantly 
 happy, and looking extremely pretty.
 
 62 THE S TOR Y OF SYL VIA . 
 
 She was no favourite with Mrs. Carr, who had 
 never approved of Floss's friendship with her, and 
 she now received her very coldly ; indeed, it is un- 
 deniable that Miss Sylvia deserved nothing better 
 just then. 
 
 But to Floss the indignation, which Mrs. Carr had 
 with some difficulty refrained from expressing to 
 Sylvia, found some small vent. 
 
 " My dear, I would not have asked her here if I 
 had imagined her capable of throwing herself at a 
 young man's head in that way ! It is so difficult for 
 a man to get away from a girl like that, and to keep 
 him out there when I know he wanted to talk to 
 you ! " 
 
 " Sylvia is not like that ; she is a very pretty girl, 
 and I am sure he did not want to get away at all, 
 and didn't require any keeping I should not if I 
 were a man," said Floss, with a laugh that did not 
 come quite naturally : " and really, Mrs. Carr, we 
 were both the better of a little variety, after being all 
 dinner together." 
 
 And then Floss escaped, leaving Mrs. Carr under 
 the impression that, after all, it was the same in this 
 case as it had always been, and that Floss did not 
 care in the least. 
 
 But Floss, driving home with her father and 
 Sylvia, knew better knew it, too, with the bitterest 
 shame and self-reproach. She knew, too, that never 
 again, let Murray speak as he might, would she be 
 deceived. But to find that she had given her love 
 unsought, even to a man who had behaved to her as 
 he had done ! For Floss was no fool she did
 
 IDLE DA YS. 63 
 
 not deceive herself with the name of friendship any 
 longer. Her feeling for Murray must be recognised, 
 faced, and conquered, and, till it could be conquered, 
 hidden away, so that no one should ever guess it had 
 existed. 
 
 And Mrs. Carr, who did not give up hope, found 
 Murray the reverse of amenable. She asked him to 
 dinner, and then to tennis, but he, having carefully 
 ascertained that Sylvia had an invitation on neither 
 occasion, found an excuse for both. 
 
 Worse than all, on the day of the tennis-party he 
 calmly spent the afternoon at Heath Cottage, and 
 stayed to dinner, trusting to chance, in a way which 
 his acquaintance with Delagherty might have told 
 him was desperate, that Mrs. Carr would never hear 
 of his proceedings. 
 
 It was the third time he had dined at Heath 
 Cottage within ten days, and Mr. Alison was not 
 oblivious of the fact. Floss had been there the first 
 time, asked purposely to meet him ; but since then, 
 Mr. Alison was quite aware there had been no ques- 
 tion of her necessity to Murray's pleasure. 
 
 And now, while he glanced over the paper after 
 dinner, he was not so unobservant as the other two 
 imagined. 
 
 He remarked how Sylvia allowed herself to be 
 engrossed by the young Scotchman in the way which 
 rendered her so dangerously attractive to men of 
 appearing, for the time being, utterly oblivious of the 
 existence of any one else in the world ; he observed, 
 too, that Murray did not seem to be devoting any 
 time to regret for Floss's absence.
 
 64 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 He knew a little more about Murray now than he 
 had done when he had described him to Sylvia as a 
 grave young man with a big nose ; and what he had 
 heard, combined with Murray's lingering pressure of 
 Sylvia's hand, when he rose to say good-night, made 
 him resolve to speak to his daughter, much as he 
 dreaded such a task. 
 
 But he still put off the evil moment, and perhaps 
 he might never have made up his mind to the effort, 
 had not the last straw been laid, by a wild project on 
 the part of Sylvia, who was as idle as any girl well 
 might be, that she should learn Latin from Mr. 
 Murray. 
 
 The lessons started very well, and were carried on 
 with great vigour for three days ; there was not even 
 the fishing to distract Murray now. Harry and 
 Billy spent their time in grumbling at the flax-water, 
 which had spoilt it for them, and looking forward to 
 the 1 2th. They played tennis in the interval, and 
 wondered at the equanimity of Murray, who had not 
 even a chance of shooting leave to console him this 
 year. 
 
 But, alas ! the lessons soon came to an ignominious 
 termination. Sylvia has not even got to " amo, am as, 
 amat," when Mr. Alison, happening to hear her men- 
 tion them, remonstrated, and finally put a veto on 
 their continuance. 
 
 He had, until now, let Sylvia go pretty much her 
 .own way, and though fond and proud of her, was 
 rather apt to forget all about her when she was not 
 present. 
 
 However, this time he spoke to her very seriously.
 
 IDLE DA VS. 65 
 
 " Sylvia," he said, " I don't care to have you become 
 so intimate with Mr. Murray. He is always mixed 
 up with some woman or other, and I should not like 
 to have you talked about with him." 
 
 " Well, Gov., I only wanted to improve my edu- 
 cation ; I shall have to get Harry to coach me 
 instead." 
 
 Sylvia was in a most amiable humour, as indeed 
 was generally the case, and mightily enjoyed teasing 
 her father as much as she dared. 
 
 " You will kindly remember that Harry Egerton is 
 not your brother, however well you may know him," 
 her father replied sharply ; " I forbid you to learn 
 Latin from anybody." 
 
 Sylvia shrugged her shoulders, and looked as much 
 the picture of melancholy resignation as if she had 
 cared for Latin in the least, or had had the faintest 
 idea of getting Harry to be her instructor. 
 
 " Very well, father," she said meekly, so meekly 
 that poor Mr. Alison began to feel himself a tyrant. 
 
 " Really, Murray is hardly a man with whom any 
 girl should be on such intimate terms," he said, 
 apologetically. 
 
 He had expressed himself rather too strongly, and 
 Sylvia was quick to take advantage of it. 
 
 " Why, Gov., if he is so bad as all that, of course I 
 don't want to have anything more to do with him," 
 she said, standing in front of her father, her curly 
 brown head a little bent, and her hands clasped 
 together, the prettiest possible picture of submission. 
 
 " Why, I scarcely mean as much as that," said poor 
 Mr. Alison, feeling slightly conscience-stricken ; " but 
 
 6
 
 66 THE STOR Y OF S YL VIA . 
 
 he is an unsteady fellow in many ways, and certainly 
 not a man I should care to see you marry." 
 
 Sylvia flushed scarlet 
 
 " Father ! " she said, " Mr. Murray is just a pleasant, 
 friendly man, but I don't care if I never see him 
 again, and as for marrying ! " 
 
 " Then that is all right," said her father, in a relieved 
 tone ; he was extremely anxious to end the conversa- 
 tion, " I needn't say any more ; you will be careful, 
 Sylvia?" 
 
 Sylvia came up close to him, and put both her 
 arms round his neck. 
 
 "Yes, Gov. dear," she said, rubbing her cheek 
 against his coat, " I am going to be a good girl. And 
 now we needn't say any more about it, need we? 
 You have done about as much harm as possible, and 
 put any amount of things into my head that I ncvcr 
 thought of before." 
 
 She laughed, but she meant what she said, and she 
 was right. 
 
 From that time Murray possessed about double 
 his former interest for her : a man who had been 
 " unsteady " interesting and mysterious statement ! 
 Sylvia wondered a good deal in what way Murray's 
 unsteadiness had betrayed itself, and consequently 
 she necessarily thought about him a good deal. A 
 man whom her father would not like her to marry ! 
 Certainly Sylvia had no intention of marrying for 
 many a long day, but when she did, she did not think 
 a man's former " unsteadiness " would be an insuper- 
 able objection. 
 
 As for poor Mr. Alison, Sylvia was an enigma, and
 
 IDLE DA VS. 67 
 
 a troublesome one, to him. He was almost convinced 
 that he had done all that was necessary when he had 
 warned her, especially when he had told her that 
 Murray was mixed up with other women. And 
 Sylvia made absolutely no difference in her treatment 
 of the young man. She had the sublimcst confidence 
 in herself, and had no fears for anybody's peace 
 of mind, except perhaps, Murray's ! It was very 
 pleasant to be with him, and though she was so sweet 
 about it that few people perceived the fact, Sylvia 
 seldom or never gave up her own will and way to 
 others. 
 
 And Floss ? Sylvia noticed no change in her, and 
 had almost forgotten that she had been Murray's first 
 friend, but his conscience often smote him about her. 
 She had grown, perhaps, a little quieter than before, 
 but she showed no sign of being hurt by the cessation 
 of Murray's companionship with her. 
 
 She did not attempt to avoid him, and only he 
 himself noticed the very slight change in her manner 
 when they were together, and he knew that it was his 
 fault. He knew, too, that he was infatuated with 
 Sylvia ; that the best side of him was not uppermost 
 when he was with her, as it had been with Floss. 
 When he was away from her he could resolve not to 
 yield to her fascination, and to return to his allegiance 
 with Floss ; but as soon as he saw her again, every- 
 thing gave way to his passionate admiration. 
 
 What was the good of saying to himself that she 
 was only a pretty little schoolgirl, when he was away 
 from her, when he could neither keep away, nor reason 
 when with her ?
 
 68 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 And Murray had very seldom in his life tried to 
 resist any woman's attraction for him ; even to stop 
 to analyse it was a new departure, the result of his half- 
 guilty feeling with regard to Floss, who was not like 
 the other girls he had known. 
 
 As for thinking what would be the end of it all, that 
 never entered his head, any more than it did Sylvia's.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 SYLVIA MAKES GOOD RESOLUTIONS. 
 
 " FLOSS, I want to talk to you." 
 
 " Sylvia, I really am very sorry, but I must order 
 the dinner, and then I have to hear Dicky a column 
 of spelling, and fifty other things after that." 
 
 " Well, Floss," Sylvia said coaxingly, " let me hear 
 Dicky his spelling, while you order the dinner, and do 
 let the fifty other things wait till I have talked to 
 you." 
 
 " I'll be very glad if you will hear Dicky his spelling, 
 and I can talk to you for a bit afterwards. You 
 know, Sylvia, if you wait till the afternoon, I can 
 always talk to you." 
 
 " And you know, Floss, that if a thing comes into 
 my head, I never can wait ! " 
 
 Floss laughed, and went downstairs, but when she 
 returned, twenty minutes later, the scene was less 
 peaceful. 
 
 Dicky was in floods of indignant tears ; Sylvia 
 supremely contemptuous, and rather cross. 
 
 Both began simultaneously to complain to Floss. 
 
 " He is too stupid and obstinate," said Sylvia. 
 
 69
 
 70 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 " She doesn't hear me right," protested Dicky, 
 tearfully. 
 
 Floss restored peace with some trouble, and then 
 she and Sylvia retreated to the drawing-room, leaving 
 Dicky to a long addition sum. 
 
 " Then, without prelude, Sylvia suddenly announced 
 her desires to Floss. 
 
 "Now, Floss dear, don't work, please. You do 
 aggravate me so, and make me so hot. I want to 
 tell you I am tired of idling and being of no use, and 
 I want to do something. What can I do ? " 
 
 Floss fairly gasped ; this was decidedly the very last 
 question she had expected. 
 
 " My dear Sylvia ! " she exclaimed in astonishment, 
 " what is the meaning of this ? " 
 
 " Nothing, except what I say. I want to be useful, 
 and what can I do ? " 
 
 "Do you mean it, really, Sylvia? " said Floss, still 
 rather doubtful. She had certainly never suspected 
 Sylvia of having as yet any ideas or wishes beyond 
 amusement 
 
 " Of course I mean it ; why shouldn't I ? " said 
 Sylvia, impatiently. 
 
 " Well, I am sure there are a great many things 
 you could do," said Floss, thoughtfully ; " for instance, 
 I do think if you were to undertake some of the 
 housekeeping, it would be a great relief to Mrs. 
 Kelly." 
 
 "Oh, nonsense, Floss; I did not mean a small 
 thing like that ! I meant something to do real 
 good." 
 
 " Well, I don't know of any way in which you could
 
 SYLVIA MAKES GOOD RESOLUTIONS. 71 
 
 do more real good ; Mrs. Kelly is very old, and not 
 equal to much bother now." 
 
 But Floss had begun to be conscious that this 
 sudden project did not mean any very great trans- 
 formation on Sylvia's part. 
 
 " I did not mean that at all," Miss Alison replied 
 with decision ; " I don't know anything about it, and 
 I should hate it." 
 
 "Well, I thought you wanted to do good," said 
 Floss, shortly. 
 
 Sylvia wriggled. 
 
 " How horrid you are, Floss ! " she said impatiently ; 
 " you are as staid and prim as if you were a hundred, 
 and go on at me just the way the Gov. I mean, my 
 father docs. There ! " with returning good temper, 
 and a laugh, " that is another of my good resolutions 
 to drop slang." 
 
 " I am very glad of it," said Floss. 
 
 " It's Mr. Murray's doing ; he told me he hated to 
 hear a girl say ' the Gov.' And, to tell you the truth, 
 the other thing is his doing too." 
 
 " What, wanting to be useful ? " 
 
 Sylvia nodded. 
 
 " He said how much he thought of you, how un- 
 selfish you were, and what a useful life yours was ; 
 he said he wondered I did not try to follow your 
 example." 
 
 " Why, he seems to have given you quite a lecture, 1 ' 
 said Floss, by way of saying something. Her cheeks 
 were glowing, and her eyes very bright. 
 
 " Well, I'm sure he's right. Anyway, I intend to 
 be useful."
 
 72 THE STOR Y OF S YL VIA. 
 
 " You seem to think a good deal of what Mr. 
 Murray says," remarked Floss, quietly. 
 
 "I do," replied Sylvia, composedly. "Do you 
 know, Floss, I believe I am a little bit in love with 
 several men, and a little bit the most with Mr. 
 Murray." 
 
 Floss looked a little amused, and a good deal 
 shocked. 
 
 " What do you mean, Sylvia ? " she said. 
 
 " You needn't look so horrified," Sylvia laughed ; 
 " I assure you it is not serious. I don't intend to fall 
 really in love for ages. It's like being vaccinated 
 one must take it slightly to avoid having it badly." 
 
 " Really, Sylvia, you are very odd," said Floss, 
 reprovingly. 
 
 " Well, I have been vaccinated heaps of times a 
 little bit last holidays with George ; then at school, 
 with Nell Dalrymple's brother Jack ; then " 
 
 " Sylvia, I don't like this kind of conversation ; 
 you ought to be ashamed to talk in this way, and it 
 certainly has nothing to do with being useful." 
 
 " But some day the right person will come, I sup- 
 pose," said Sylvia, leaning forward, her hands clasped 
 round her knees, and a momentarily dreamy look in 
 her violet eyes "at least, if it is true that there is a 
 right person for every one." 
 
 And then she went on, with a laugh : " The right 
 person for me will be somebody who is very much in 
 love with me, and will always let me have my own 
 way. So Mr. Murray won't suit," she added abruptly. 
 " If I am selfish, so is he ; and there would certainly 
 be a row in that household ! "
 
 SYLVIA MAKES GOOD RESOLUTIONS. 73 
 
 " You seem to be thinking a good deal of Mr. 
 Murray," said Floss, gravely. 
 
 But Sylvia would not talk on this subject any 
 longer. 
 
 " Floss," she said, petulantly, " I am waiting for 
 you to tell me of something useful to do." 
 
 " Well, Sylvia, what do you want to do ? " Floss 
 said, resignedly. 
 
 This seemed to be the answer desired. 
 
 " I was thinking I might begin by starting a class 
 for poor children at home on Sundays," said Sylvia, 
 briskly. 
 
 Floss was silent, but not because she was struck 
 dumb with admiration of this virtuous project, as 
 possibly Sylvia had expected. 
 
 " Well," she said impatiently, " don't you think 
 that it would be a good thing to do ? " 
 
 And then Floss laughed a little. 
 
 " Oh, Sylvia, Sylvia ! " she said, " I am afraid you 
 are not the best person in the world for that kind of 
 work ! Think of this morning, and Dicky's spelling ! " 
 
 Sylvia got up from her chair in high indignation. 
 Ridicule was the one thing she could not stand. 
 
 " I hope there are not many children as stupid as 
 Dicky ! " she said wrathfully ; and indignantly march- 
 ing off to the piano, she proceeded to soothe her 
 wounded feelings by a succession of very energetic 
 polkas and galops. 
 
 Her last remark had made Floss quite too angry to 
 attempt a reconciliation. She had a good opportunity 
 now to go and do all she wanted, but instead she sat 
 very still thinking.
 
 74 THE STOR Y OF S YL VIA . 
 
 Indignation on Dicky's account did not last long, 
 and her thoughts soon wandered to the earlier part of 
 their conversation. 
 
 Mr. Murray ah, she could not think of him now, 
 happily as she used to do. Did Sylvia care for him ? 
 Had he ever given her any reason to do so? But 
 surely, if she had cared in the least, she could never 
 have spoken of him as she had done that day. 
 
 She thought of the happy afternoons she and 
 Murray had spent together before Sylvia came, with 
 a feeling that was not all pain. Yes, he had been 
 right when he had said they could never be the same 
 again he had been right, though not in the way he 
 meant at the time. 
 
 And what a fool she had been what a fool she 
 was still ! Just because he was the first man who 
 had ever made sweet speeches to her. Perhaps other 
 girls would have thought nothing of all he had said 
 and looked ? But, no ; this Floss could not believe 
 when she remembered. 
 
 Her thoughts were so engrossed, that the entrance 
 of the very person she was thinking of, ushered in by 
 Dicky, made her start and blush crimson. 
 
 Sylvia stopped playing, and came over to shake 
 hands with him, with recovered amiability, and it was 
 she who did most of the talking. Floss was even 
 more silent than usual, and Murray was not quite at 
 his ease. 
 
 Dicky, in no hurry to return to his sum, fidgeted 
 about near Murray, his small mind agitated by a very 
 anxious question. 
 
 He did not mind interrupting in the least, and
 
 SYLVIA MAKES GOOD RESOLUTIONS. 75 
 
 finding his suggestive looks unheeded, and that he 
 was unnoticed even by Floss, he came to the point 
 with startling abruptness. 
 
 " Mr. Murray, have you got any chocolates for 
 me ? " he said persuasively. After all, were not his 
 chocolates just as important to Dicky as their less 
 tangible loves and hates and indifferences were to the 
 others ? 
 
 " Oh, I'm awfully sorry, Dicky ; I forgot all about 
 it," said Murray, starting. 
 
 " I have almost forgotten what they taste like," 
 remarked Dicky, pathetically. 
 
 " Dicky, Dicky, you mustn't be so greedy," remon- 
 strated Floss. 
 
 " It was too bad of me to forget," said Murray. 
 " Never mind, Dick ; I will bring you some next 
 time." 
 
 " I know puffeckly well why you don't bring me 
 any now," said Dicky, with severe dignity ; " it's 
 because there is nothing you want me to do." 
 
 There was an awful silence. Murray was scarlet, 
 Floss uneasy ; even Sylvia saw that something was 
 wrong. 
 
 It is to be feared Dicky understood perfectly well 
 that he was about to make himself intensely dis- 
 agreeable, though further than that he could not of 
 course comprehend, sharp child though he was. 
 
 " You don't care to be with any one but her now," 
 he said dolefully, politely indicating Sylvia with his 
 thumb. 
 
 No one spoke, because for the moment no one 
 could think of anything whatever to say.
 
 76 THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA . 
 
 Murray was inwardly consigning Dicky to nowhere 
 particularly agreeable, with great fervour. His one 
 idea was flight, and he put an end to this dreadful 
 pause by rising abruptly. 
 
 " I will go and see if Harry is anywhere about," 
 he said, and made a hasty exit, leaving Dicky fully 
 master of the situation. 
 
 Then this youth also took himself off, after a few 
 agreeable remarks, which met with no response. 
 
 Sylvia was the only person to whom this little 
 interlude, if embarrassing, had not been wholly un- 
 pleasant. 
 
 " Now, Floss, I am quite in good temper again," 
 she said amiably, " so we'd better really settle about 
 being useful. I give you leave to be as disagreeably 
 practical as you like."
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 A MORNING PROPOSAL. 
 
 " GOOD morning, Sylvia." 
 
 " Good morning, Harry." 
 
 Sylvia was busily engaged in writing to Dublin for 
 patterns with a view to a new dress, and she was in a 
 hurry for the post, and much exercised to describe 
 exactly what she wanted. 
 
 She was sitting at a table by one of the drawing- 
 room windows, and after giving Harry a friendly 
 little nod over her shoulder, she returned to her letter. 
 
 Harry seated himself on the arm of a chair, and 
 began to fidget with the tassel of its cushion. 
 
 " Sylvia," he said at last, very gravely. 
 
 " Yes ? " she answered, without looking up. 
 
 " Sylvia, I want to talk to you seriously." 
 
 " All right ; if you can't wait, I am listening," 
 carelessly. 
 
 " You know I am going to the mountain this after- 
 noon ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Sylvia. " If that is all you have 
 got to say, I have been aware that to-morrow will be 
 the 1 2th for some time." 
 
 77
 
 78 THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA. 
 
 " And I shall be away for a week," said Harry, with 
 an odd nervousness. 
 
 " I suppose so," said Sylvia, without looking up 
 from her letter, or appearing in any way unduly 
 excited by the intelligence. 
 
 " And before I go, I have got a question to ask 
 you," he said, with much hesitation. 
 
 " Yes," she murmured, writing busily. 
 
 Then Harry proceeded to say what he meant very 
 abruptly, without any of the delicate introduction he 
 had projected. 
 
 " I want to ask you, will you marry me ? " he 
 said, with an abruptness which he felt was almost 
 brutal. 
 
 " Yes, in a minute," said Sylvia. She was entirely 
 engrossed with her patterns, and had only a dim per- 
 ception that Harry had asked her to do something. 
 
 11 Sylvia ! " Harry exclaimed, in a tone of such 
 indignation that she jumped, "attend to me for a 
 moment." 
 
 Sylvia had as yet entirely failed to realise that 
 there was sentiment in the air. She turned round 
 obediently, and waited, pen in hand. 
 
 " Well ? " she said, after a moment's silence. 
 
 " You have put me out I can't go on ! " said 
 Harry, wrathfully. 
 
 "Well, then, I'll write till you are ready to go on." 
 
 Sylvia looked as if she were going to begin again, 
 but Harry leant forward and took the pen out of her 
 hand in a most brotherly and unlovcrlikc way. 
 
 " I was asking you if you would marry me," he 
 said crossly.
 
 A MORNING PROPOSAL. 79 
 
 Harry never was cross, so between his words and 
 his tone Sylvia was much surprised. 
 
 She laughed. " What a silly humour you are in, 
 my dear boy," she said lightly. " And now, if that's 
 all you have to say, you might give me back my 
 pen." 
 
 " Sylvia, I am in earnest ! " said Harry, energeti- 
 cally. 
 
 " So am I in earnest about having my letter in time 
 for the post." 
 
 " I will bring it down to the post myself, if you will 
 listen to me," he said very gravely. "I am not joking, 
 Sylvia." 
 
 " Then you must be mad," she said conclusively. 
 
 " I don't see why I should not be taken as seriously 
 as any other man," said Harry, getting a little an- 
 noyed. " This is the sort of thing that settles a 
 man's life for him " 
 
 " Rubbish, my dear ! " said Sylvia, unsympa- 
 thctically. 
 
 " Well, whether you believe it or not, I mean what 
 I say," persisted Harry. 
 
 "You mean," said Sylvia, slowly, "that you 
 seriously ask me to marry you ? " 
 
 ' I do," said Harry, solemnly. 
 
 " It isn't a joke of some kind ? " 
 
 " Honour bright, it isn't ; I mean it." 
 
 Then Sylvia, who had been looking most hopefully 
 grave, suddenly burst out laughing, She laughed till 
 even Harry reluctantly joined her. 
 
 " Oh, Harry, you are too absurd ! " she said at last, 
 as she began by degrees to recover her gravity.
 
 8o THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA . 
 
 " I don't see what is absurd in a man asking a girl 
 to marry him," said Harry, stiffly. 
 
 Sylvia seemed much inclined to begin to laugh 
 again for a moment ; but she restrained herself, and 
 said gravely : 
 
 "Well, but, Harry, that is not the way to propose. 
 You have never told me you loved me, or anything 
 of that kind." 
 
 " Don't be absurd, Sylvia," returned Harry in an 
 aggravated tone ; " you know you and I never went 
 in for sentiment" 
 
 " But then, we never went in for proposals either," 
 responded Sylvia, her mouth quivering suspiciously. 
 
 " You know I am very fond of you, and all that," 
 said Harry, transferring his attentions from the tassel 
 of a pillow to an ivory paper-knife. 
 
 " Fond, indeed ! You don't even offer me love to 
 live on, and we should certainly have nothing else. 
 Harry, I believe you're chaffing ! " 
 
 " I am not ! " he said hotly. " Will you hold your 
 tongue, and listen to me ? " 
 
 "Very well, Harry dear," resignedly; "but I think 
 you had better let me coach you up a bit in proposals 
 first. I really never heard of a man telling the girl 
 he was proposing to to hold her tongue." 
 
 " Are you going to listen ? When I pass my 
 exam., I shall start upon a hundred a year " 
 
 " And upon that colossal fortune you feel justified 
 in setting up a wife ? " 
 
 " There's no need for us to be married at once. In 
 a couple of years I shall probably have three or four 
 hundred a year quite enough to marry on "
 
 A MORNING PROPOSAL. 81 
 
 " Do put down that paper-knife, Harry dear ; I 
 shouldn't like to have it broken. And now listen to 
 me. I haven't the faintest desire to get married just 
 at present ; even four hundred a year possesses no 
 tremendous inducement ; and, finally suppose you 
 don't pass your exam. ? What becomes of this fine 
 castle of cards then ? " 
 
 " I shall pass it." Harry was not unnaturally 
 getting annoyed. "Just think of the fun we should 
 have together in London, Sylvia! Remember, you 
 can't come and stop with me unless you marry me." 
 
 " Oh, I don't think you can really be any older 
 than my Billy ! I sha'n't marry ' for fun ' when I do 
 marry," Sylvia returned, sedately. " We have been 
 talking a great deal of nonsense, Harry. Don't 
 bother your head about marrying for many a long 
 day." 
 
 " Then you won't be engaged to me? We needn't 
 think of marrying for ages, you know," said Harry, 
 persuasively. 
 
 " I would as soon think of marrying Billy ! " re- 
 sponded Sylvia. " Now, Harry, don't look cross ; you 
 never are cross." 
 
 " You might at least have taken me seriously," said 
 he, in an aggrieved tone. 
 
 " Taken you seriously ! Good gracious ! have I 
 not taken you seriously ? Mr. Egerton, I am sorry 
 to be obliged to decline your flattering offer. Is that 
 better ? " 
 
 Harry got up, flushing angrily. 
 
 " It is horrid of you to go on like that, Sylvia, 
 when you know I meant it," he said. 
 
 7
 
 82 THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA . 
 
 " Well, but, Harry, you've destroyed a lot of my 
 illusions. I have often wondered what my first pro- 
 posal would be like ; and now I strongly advise 
 you to practise before you propose to any one else. 
 You may practise on me if you like, so long as you 
 don't select post-time again. By the way, I hope 
 your offer to take my letter down for me wasn't con- 
 tingent on my accepting you? Just wait a minute ; 
 I have only a few lines to add but, oh, you funny 
 boy ! you have put everything I wanted to say out 
 of my head ! Oh dear ! even Floss can't help laugh- 
 ing at this ! " 
 
 " Great Scott, Sylvia ! you aren't going to tell any 
 one ? " said Harry, in dismay. 
 
 ' Oh, Harry, I can't keep such a good joke to my- 
 self ! Don't say I mustn't tell any one," said Sylvia, 
 sweetly. 
 
 But Harry was, not unnaturally, obdurate.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 SYLVIA'S AUNT. 
 
 SYLVIA spent the rest of that day in a state of sup- 
 pressed amusement. She longed to tell somebody of 
 the joke ; but Harry had been unkind enough to 
 make her promise that she would not. 
 
 Mr. Murray, who called in the afternoon, found her 
 in the wildest spirits. They walked over to the Elms 
 for tea, and Sylvia had never been gayer or less sen- 
 timental in her mood. 
 
 Murray, on the contrary, was feeling decidedly 
 depressed. To-morrow would be the I2th, and 
 everybody was going, or gone, to the mountains 
 everybody, that is to say, except the unfortunate 
 Black Watch officers, before whom there was no 
 shooting leave this year, nothing but detachment 
 duty and riots. And Murray had received several 
 invitations to Scotland, and had even meditated a 
 September shooting party himself. He could not 
 grumble to Sylvia about the impossibility of leaving 
 Delagherty ; but, instead, he chose a subject which 
 should have enlisted her sympathies. He informed 
 hei that he expected orders for Belfast any day; but 
 S}dvia unkindly refused to express the least sorrow. 
 
 83
 
 84 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 " I suppose you'll come and say good-bye if you've 
 time ? " she remarked indifferently. 
 
 " I am sure' you don't doubt that," he said ten- 
 derly ; "don't I spend most of my time here? I'll 
 see you again to-morrow, and then I have to take 
 some men to Omagh, and sha'n't be back till Satur- 
 day night. Shall you be at the Egertons' on Sunday 
 evening ? " 
 
 " Yes, I suppose so if I am back from Aunt 
 Alice's." 
 
 " Is that the aunt who lives down at Kilberry ? " 
 
 "Yes, my great-aunt really the nicest old lady. 
 I am to go down by myself, too, as the Gov. my 
 father can't come." 
 
 The significance of her tone was by no means lost 
 on Murray. 
 
 " I believe I am going in that direction on Sun- 
 day," he said ; " and don't you think we may as well 
 go by the same train ? " 
 
 " I suppose we may as well," said Sylvia, sweetly. 
 
 They reached the Elms in the middle of a few 
 further little arrangements, and Sylvia precipitated 
 herself into the drawing-room in her usual uncere- 
 monious fashion. 
 
 She drew back equally hastily, however, when she 
 saw that Floss was not alone ; instead, she was busily 
 engaged in regaling Mrs. Carr with afternoon tea. 
 
 Sylvia entertained a great aversion to Mrs. Carr, 
 which, truth to tell, was entirely reciprocated by that 
 lady, who looked upon Miss Alison as irrcclaimably 
 fast, and a very bad companion for her favourite 
 Floss.
 
 SYLVIA'S AUNT. 85 
 
 Sylvia loitered about with Mr. Murray, awaiting 
 Mrs. Carr's departure, and utterly refusing to go in 
 while she was there ; and Murray was not able to 
 wait till she had left, as he was obliged to be back 
 in barracks for mess, so Sylvia finally made her 
 appearance alone, followed in a few minutes by 
 Harry, who did not seem best pleased to find her 
 there. 
 
 Sylvia and Harry were both anxious to be sup- 
 plied with tea, and distressed Floss's economical soul 
 by the reckless inroads they made into the untouched 
 cake, which she had fondly hoped to preserve for a 
 future visitor. 
 
 " Well," said Sylvia, briskly, when all her wants 
 had been supplied, " what was that old frump con- 
 versing you about ?" 
 
 " She wants Harry and me to go to a tennis there 
 next Tuesday," returned Floss. " I suppose you will 
 want to go if you are back from the mountain, 
 Harry? There is to be dancing as well, I believe." 
 
 " All right ; I'll go if there's dancing," Harry re- 
 sponded, with his mouth full of cake. 
 
 " My dear Harry," remonstrated Sylvia, gravely, 
 " I really did not think you would care to mix in 
 society just at present." 
 
 Harry looked cross, and shrugged his shoulders, 
 devoting all his attention to his tea, and Floss could 
 not imagine what Sylvia was talking about. 
 
 " I shall have to stand at the railings and gaze at 
 you, feeling myself outside the gates of paradise!" 
 said Sylvia, cheerfully. " Never mind ; / have my 
 small dissipation in view for Sunday. By the way,
 
 86 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 that is chiefly why I came over I want to know if 
 you will take my class on Sunday, Floss dear ? " 
 
 " Now, Sylvia, was it not our agreement that I 
 should not have to take your class? I told you I 
 should not have time." 
 
 " But, Floss, Aunt Alice has asked me to go and 
 see her, and father says I am to go." 
 
 " Well, won't some other day do equally well ? 
 Remember, you have only taken your class for one 
 Sunday really, as the first time you insisted on my 
 being with you." 
 
 But Sylvia, having something more than a visit to 
 her aunt connected with her Sunday's expedition, 
 would not hear of putting it off, and brought forward 
 so many excellent and unanswerable reasons for the 
 necessity of her going on that particular day, that 
 Floss yielded as usual. 
 
 Harry listened to the conversation in silence. At 
 another time he would probably have expressed his 
 feelings pretty freely ; but just now he was very 
 much on his dignity with Sylvia. This young lady 
 turned her attention to him as soon as her point was 
 gained. 
 
 " Well, Harry, hasn't the ridiculous side of this 
 morning's proceedings struck you yet ? " she said 
 agreeably. 
 
 " I can't say it has yet," very stiffly. 
 
 " As for me, I have scarcely stopped laughing ever 
 since." 
 
 " I am very glad you are amused," still more stiffly. 
 
 "You two are talking in riddles," said Floss. 
 " What is it all about ? "
 
 SYLVIAS AUNT. 87 
 
 " It isn't my fault we are talking in riddles," re- 
 plied Sylvia. " Oh, Harry, I should love to tell her !" 
 
 " Sylvia ! " Harry put in vvarningly. 
 
 " Never fear ; I shall keep my promise. But if I 
 am not to share the joke with any one else, at least 
 you might let me laugh over it with you." 
 
 " Sylvia, you have no more feelings than a fish ! " 
 exclaimed Harry, wrathfully, and to Floss's intense 
 surprise he beat an angry retreat. 
 
 " What on earth is the matter with him ? " she 
 said wonderingly to Sylvia, " I never knew him cross 
 before." 
 
 But Sylvia only laughed and had the grace to keep 
 his secret.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 THE HISTORY OF A KISS. 
 
 'YOU'RE all right then, Sylvia? Sure you don't 
 mind going by yourself? " 
 
 " Not I, father ; you forget what a good traveller 
 I am, and I know going to sec Aunt Alice is not 
 your idea of bliss." 
 
 " No, I can't say that it is, seeing that it means 
 sitting in a room with a blazing fire and all the 
 windows shut, on a hot day in August. I will send 
 the trap to meet you at the last train the 8.20." 
 
 " Very well. Oh Mr. Murray how do you do? " 
 
 Sylvia had been leaning out of the carriage 
 window, ostensibly to talk to her father, and she 
 greeted Mr. Murray with the greatest aplomb. Mr. 
 Alison saw them off together, without an idea that 
 their meeting was anything but the merest chance. 
 
 " Now," said Murray, as they drew near their desti- 
 nation, " we must settle what we are to do. Are 
 you bound to go on and see that aunt of yours ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Sylvia, quickly, " it would never do 
 not to go." 
 
 " But isn't it too bad if this little bit in the train
 
 THE HIST OR Y OF A KISS. 89 
 
 is to be our only time together ? " Murray went on 
 tenderly ; " what time do you come back ? " 
 
 " I am to reach Delagherty by half-past eight. I 
 suppose a little before eight the journey does not 
 take much more than half an hour." 
 
 " I am going to stop at Bclderry, this next station ; 
 I often go down there for a sail ; there are very 
 jolly boats. I wish you could come, and I would 
 take you out." 
 
 " I u>ish I could," said Sylvia, regretfully. 
 
 " I'll tell you what you migJit do," exclaimed 
 Murray, suddenly, " leave Kilberry by an earlier train, 
 and come for a row with me till it was time for the 
 train. What do you say to that ? " 
 
 Sylvia's face flushed with delight. 
 
 " What fun it would be ! " she said. 
 
 Murray looked at his watch. " Nearly one now ; 
 what time could you leave ? Say four ? " 
 
 But Sylvia decreed that that would be too early. 
 
 They agreed to look up the time-tables at their 
 respective stations, and that Sylvia was to come by 
 the nearest train to five o'clock. 
 
 "That will give us almost three hours," said 
 Murray ; " we can have a row, and then get tea some- 
 where." 
 
 " And there is no danger of our meeting any one 
 we know ? " 
 
 " Scarcely any, I should say," Murray replied care- 
 lessly, and Sylvia was very easily reassured. 
 
 She certainly paid her aunt a most unsatisfactory 
 visit. Within a very short time after her arrival, she 
 began to be in a fidget lest she should by any possi-
 
 90 THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA. 
 
 bility miss the train, and she finally insisted on being 
 at the station at a most unreasonably early hour. 
 Her aunt had never known Sylvia fussy before, 
 and could not make her out. They had a long 
 wait at the station, but the train did arrive at last, 
 and Miss Alison found herself safely off, to her great 
 satisfaction. 
 
 She greeted Murray, who was awaiting her on 
 the station at Belderry, with a radiant face, but his 
 own was not so radiant. 
 
 He had proposed the expedition on the spur of 
 the moment, and as usual without a second thought, 
 but he understood, as Sylvia did not, in what a very 
 disagreeable position the girl might find herself. 
 
 An awkwardness was rendered more probable by 
 the fact that Captain Atterly, one of Murray's brother 
 officers, had come down to spend the afternoon 
 sailing with some friends. This Murray had not 
 been aware of when he proposed the expedition to 
 Sylvia, but a moment's reflection would have told 
 him how extremely unlikely it was that he could pass 
 a Sunday afternoon in so favourite a boating place, 
 and one he had himself visited so often, without 
 meeting some one who knew him. 
 
 However, his qualms of conscience did not last 
 long, and by the time he and Sylvia were in a boat 
 on the sea together, his mind was quite at ease again, 
 and his only precaution was to keep well away from 
 all sailing boats. 
 
 As for Sylvia, she was in wild spirits, and enjoying 
 the feeling of Bohcmianism and naughtiness without 
 one arriere penste.
 
 THE HISTORY OF A KISS. 91 
 
 They had a glorious sail. Murray had lost his 
 head a little, and never before had he spoken quite 
 so tenderly, never had he seemed so utterly engrossed 
 by his companion. She was very sorry to come 
 ashore, and glad when Murray looked at his watch 
 and announced that there was time for them to have 
 tea at the hotel before starting, if Sylvia liked. 
 
 Of course Sylvia liked ; she was in the humour 
 just then to like anything and everything he might 
 propose. She was far too excited for rational con- 
 sideration, and Murray was determined not to bother 
 his head about the proprieties for that afternoon. 
 
 He asked for a private room at the hotel, and 
 ordered a most sumptuous tea, Sylvia declaring 
 herself very hungry, and most appreciative of his 
 attentions, though it was certainly rather late for 
 afternoon tea. 
 
 They established themselves in two armchairs, 
 with the table between them ; and Sylvia made tea, 
 and chattered and laughed, looking prettier, Murray 
 thought, than he had ever seen her look. 
 
 But under such circumstances, if an awkward 
 situation is possible, is it not sure to occur? It 
 occurred in this case. Just as Murray was drinking 
 his last cup of tea, and Sylvia saying she was sure it 
 must be time to start, the door opened, and Captain 
 Atterly, the very person whom Murray had most 
 wished to avoid, looked in. 
 
 " I say, Murray," he began, and then broke off 
 short, and came to an awkward pause. 
 
 Sylvia, thoughtless Sylvia, gave him a friendly 
 little nod, and in her ignorance was very slightly
 
 92 THE S TOR Y OF SYL VIA. 
 
 taken aback, but Murray looked most uncomfortable 
 and guilty. 
 
 " How do you do, Captain Atterly ? " said Sylvia, 
 sweetly ; " do let me give you some tea ? " 
 
 " No, thank you," with emphasis. " I heard you 
 were upstairs, Murray, but I had no idea I am sure 
 I beg your pardon." 
 
 Captain Atterly spoke in a tone of amusement 
 and slightly veiled insolence. 
 
 " You needn't go," said Murray, uncomfortably ; " I 
 happened to meet Miss Alison " 
 
 " I understand. I must go now, I am afraid. 
 Good evening, Miss Alison." 
 
 And Captain Atterly beat a hasty retreat, leaving 
 the other two looking at each other rather blankly. 
 
 Sylvia was the first to speak. 
 
 " It doesn't matter so very much, after all, does 
 it ? " she said a little anxiously. 
 
 " I don't know ; I wish to goodness the fellow 
 had not turned up just then." 
 
 Murray looked annoyed, and felt self-reproachful. 
 
 " It can't be helped though," said Sylvia, more 
 cheerfully, "so there is no good bothering. Have 
 another cup of tea, by way of raising our spirits, Mr. 
 Murray ? " 
 
 " I am awfully sorry if I have got you into a mess 
 of any kind," said Murray, accepting the tea ; " it is 
 my fault entirely." 
 
 But Sylvia only laughed. 
 
 They found Captain Atterly and another man from 
 barracks, one of the Artillery, lounging outside the 
 hotel door smoking, and by way of showing how
 
 THE HJSTOR Y OF A KISS. 93 
 
 perfectly she was at ease, Sylvia stopped to speak 
 to them. But Murray looked uneasily at his 
 watch. 
 
 "If you want to catch this train, Miss Alison, I 
 think we had better go at once," he said. 
 
 " I am afraid there is no chance of your catching 
 the train to Delagherty, if that is the one you want," 
 remarked Captain Atterly. 
 
 " We've ten minutes to the good still," replied 
 Murray, impatiently; "we shall only have to walk 
 quickly." 
 
 "You don't know that the train leaves a quarter 
 of an hour earlier on Sundays, then ? " said Captain 
 Atterly, placidly ; " we are stopping the night, and 
 I thought you must intend doing so too, or I would 
 have let you know. I am afraid there isn't another 
 till half-past ten." 
 
 Consternation fell on the other two. 
 
 Murray would have made no further effort in the 
 way of trains, but Sylvia hurried him off, insisting on 
 seeing if there might not be some mistake, or at any 
 rate some train before the half-past ten. All in vain. 
 They reached the station to find it deserted, and they 
 both knew well enough that between eight and the 
 special Sunday half-past ten no train ran to Delagherty. 
 
 Murray gave vent to a muttered and uncomplimen- 
 tary remark about Captain Atterly. 
 
 " He knew well enough we did not want to stay the 
 night," he added aloud. 
 
 " What are we to do ? " said Sylvia, helplessly. 
 
 Murray roused himself. 
 
 " One of two things," he said, after a pause : " either
 
 94 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 you can drive back to your aunt, which is not more 
 than three or four miles from here, or into Delagherty, 
 which would be a longish, but still quite a practicable 
 drive." 
 
 Sylvia had not even thought of driving, and caught 
 joyfully at the idea. 
 
 " Oh, I will go home, please," she said eagerly. 
 
 "Then, if you will excuse me for a second, I will 
 see about a car," answered Murray. 
 
 He was not many minutes absent, and found no 
 difficulty in obtaining what he wanted. 
 
 He helped Sylvia on the car, and then paused. 
 
 " Shall I go with you ? " he said doubtfully ; " or 
 would it be better to go back to those fellows ? " 
 
 " Oh, no, what does it matter now ? " said Sylvia, 
 hastily making room for him " and don't forget, you 
 said you would go to the Elms for supper." 
 
 And against his better judgment, and because he 
 strongly desired that drive in the dusk, Murray 
 yielded. 
 
 They both enjoyed it to the full. 
 
 As if by common consent, they said no more about 
 the annoyances of the day, but gave themselves up 
 entirely to the pleasure of the moment 
 
 Murray got down before they reached Delagherty, 
 and went to barracks to dress. He pressed Sylvia's 
 hand very warmly, and looked into her eyes very 
 tenderly. 
 
 " Good-bye till this evening," he said softly ; " I 
 shall be a little late, but I shall come." 
 
 And Sylvia drove on alone. That she had missed 
 her train was all the explanation she gave that even-
 
 THE HISTORY OF A KISS. 95 
 
 ing, but she dimly felt that eventually she would 
 have to pay for her afternoon's pleasure. 
 
 It was indeed unlikely that, sooner or later, her 
 people would not find out the real state of the case. 
 
 She did not intend going over to the Elms till after 
 supper, so she had plenty of time to dress. 
 
 The Egertons had a kind of cold supper every 
 Sunday to which any one who cared to come was 
 welcome. This evening a cousin of theirs, Sylvia, 
 and Murray, were the only guests, the two latter in 
 the wildest and most reckless of spirits. With them 
 as leaders, ably seconded by Harry and Billy, the 
 whole party spent a most rollicking evening. 
 
 Floss was the only one who appeared to recollect 
 that it was Sunday, and a few slightly scandalised 
 remonstrances from her passed unheeded. 
 
 Finally, having all worked themselves into high 
 spirits, at about ten o'clock they took it into their 
 heads to go down in a body to the kitchen to make 
 porridge. 
 
 The servants had departed to bed, and all Floss's 
 remonstrances were explained away and laughed at. 
 
 For the first time during a visit to the Elms, Mur- 
 ray, though not drunk, had had quite as much wine as 
 was good for him. How common an occurrence this 
 was with him at mess, not even Harry knew, but never 
 before had he run any risks at the Elms. But the 
 day had been hot, and he had been idle, and almost 
 insensibly he had taken more than was quite safe ; 
 not that it was enough to have any effect further than 
 making him a little excited. 
 
 There was a great deal of chattering and laughing
 
 96 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 as they searched for meal, and finally Sylvia went to 
 the pump which was just outside the kitchen door to 
 fetch some water. 
 
 She had taken a candle with her, and left the 
 others disputing over the saucepans, but Mr. Murray 
 followed her, pumped the water for her, and then, as 
 she turned to go in again, he hastily shut the door, 
 and, leaning towards her, blew out the candle. 
 
 " Mr. Murray ! what do you mean ! " Sylvia ex- 
 claimed ; " open the door, or I shall spill the water." 
 
 He came very close to her, and laid his hand on 
 her shoulder. 
 
 " I shall not open the door just yet," he said pas- 
 sionately, "you must give me a kiss first." 
 
 " Mr. Murray ! " 
 
 He could not see her face, but her tone was startled 
 and angry. 
 
 " Let me pass at once," she said ; but he put his arm 
 round her and drew her back, the water splashing all 
 over her pretty white dress. 
 
 " I will not let you pass ! " he said hotly. 
 
 She began to be a little frightened and very angry. 
 
 " If you don't let me pass this instant, Mr. Murray, 
 I will call out," she said. 
 
 " No, I don't think you will," he returned quietly ; 
 " if you let me kiss you, you shall go in at once." 
 
 " How dare you ! " she cried, with tears in her 
 voice. 
 
 " Why are you making such a fuss ? " he returned 
 doggedly. " It will not hurt you. I could kiss you 
 by force, but I would rather let it be by your own 
 free will."
 
 THE HISTORY OF A KISS. 97 
 
 " You are no gentleman ! " she exclaimed indig- 
 nantly ; " listen, they are calling us." 
 
 " They may call," he returned stolidly, and then 
 there was silence. 
 
 Murray had drunk just enough to make him 
 obstinate ; had he been perfectly sober, he would 
 never so far have forgotten his gentlemanly instincts. 
 
 It was quite dark : a light wind blew through the 
 yard, ruffling Sylvia's curls. As Murray stood bend- 
 ing over her, it blew one against his cheek. 
 
 Sylvia was frightened at his vehemence, and half 
 inclined to cry ; yet, at the bottom of her heart the 
 situation was not without attraction for her. 
 
 Suddenly, in the stillness, she heard the scullery 
 door open. 
 
 Both of them started, but Murray did not relax his 
 hold. 
 
 " They are coming ! oh, do let me go ! " she ex- 
 claimed, unmingled dismay in her voice now. 
 
 " Then I can wait no longer ! " he whispered, and 
 catching her in his arms, he kissed her again and again. 
 
 " Now you may go," he said, and opened the door 
 for her, almost in Harry's face. 
 
 She had restrained her impulse to cry out with 
 some difficulty, and now she had to go forward and 
 meet the light and Harry. 
 
 "Well," he said gruffly, "you have been a long 
 time getting the water." 
 
 " The light was blown out," Sylvia said, in a very 
 shaky voice. 
 
 Her dress was splashed with water, and the bowl 
 was quite empty. 
 
 8
 
 98 THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA . 
 
 Harry refilled it in silence, and they all went back 
 to the kitchen together. 
 
 The others were impatiently waiting : Floss said 
 nothing, and Harry was the one to remark, with a 
 sneer, that Sylvia appeared to be considerably blown 
 about. 
 
 That young lady talked and laughed excitedly, 
 but took care not to exchange another word with 
 Murray, and to avoid him as much as possible. 
 
 " You are not really angry ? " he managed to say to 
 her, after a short refusal on her part of his escort 
 home, and an acceptance of Harry's very cool proffer 
 of the same. 
 
 But Sylvia turned away. 
 
 " Don't speak to me I hate you ! " she said with 
 energy.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 FETTERED. 
 
 MURRAY was most thoroughly ashamed of himself 
 next morning. 
 
 He would gladly have forgotten the whole day's 
 proceedings if he had been able to do so, but he could 
 neither forget them nor Sylvia's fair little face and 
 large violet eyes. 
 
 It did not make him at all more comfortable to be 
 greeted on all sides by chaffing remarks, and to find 
 that Captain Atterly and the artilleryman, having 
 returned for early parade, had lost no time in spread- 
 ing their little story, with a few additions of course. 
 
 Gossip is supposed to be a woman's business, but 
 certainly her privileges in that direction are largely 
 invaded in a regiment. 
 
 Murray returned some very sharp answers to the 
 chaff with which he was overwhelmed, and felt more 
 than he said. 
 
 He was a little in love with Sylvia, and very much 
 conscience-stricken about her. When things were 
 brought home to him he was good-hearted enough, 
 this young fellow, and he was more careless than 
 selfish. 
 
 99
 
 loo THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 He finally made up his mind to walk over to Heath 
 Hall and see Sylvia at once, without waiting for the 
 afternoon. He had a very dim idea of what he in- 
 tended to do when he got there, but he vaguely felt 
 as if it behoved him to do something, and apologise 
 in some way to the girl. 
 
 He found her alone in the drawing-room, as he had 
 hoped, well knowing how early Mr. Alison went to 
 business. 
 
 There was a fire in this room almost all the year 
 round a weakness of Sylvia's, who was a chilly per- 
 son, and on this occasion she was taking advantage of 
 it. She was sitting on the hearthrug, with her back to 
 the flame, and a towel round her shoulders, over which 
 her long, thick, red-brown hair was falling loosely. 
 
 She looked surprised, but by no means abashed. 
 
 " Good morning," she said, in cool, unfriendly tones. 
 
 But Murray was prepared for a cold reception. He 
 came over to her, and threw himself on the rug beside 
 her. 
 
 " Have you been washing your hair ? " he said, by 
 way of opening the conversation. 
 
 " Yes ; I think it must be dry by this time, and if 
 you will excuse me I will go and put it up." 
 
 He took a curl in his hand. 
 
 " No, don't go," he said softly, " it is really quite 
 wet still. What lovely hair you have." 
 
 Sylvia wriggled herself a little away from him. 
 
 " Please don't," she said ; " let my hair go, Mr. 
 Murray." 
 
 " You usen't to be so stern," he said, in a low voice 
 full of reproach.
 
 FETTERED. 101 
 
 " No," sharply, " because I used to think you were 
 to be trusted." 
 
 Murray started, and flushed up to the roots of his 
 hair. 
 
 "Miss Alison, I can't tell you how very, very sorry 
 I am about that ; won't you forgive me ? " 
 
 " I can't forget it," replied Sylvia, who was begin- 
 ing vaguely to enjoy herself, " it was most ungentle- 
 manly." 
 
 " I was a brute ! " he said hotly ; " I was ashamed 
 of myself the moment after. I wish it had been any 
 other girl but you, my darling ! " 
 
 When he began the sentence, Murray had not 
 had the very vaguest idea of ending it in such 
 fashion. But Sylvia looked so lovely, with her flushed 
 face, and the firelight gleaming on her fair hair, that 
 all he was conscious of was a longing to kiss her 
 again at any price. 
 
 He drew his hand through her hair very gently, and 
 she said nothing. 
 
 " My darling, I love you ! " he whispered, his dark 
 eyes full of passionate tenderness ; " may I not kiss 
 you now?" 
 
 He put his arm round her, and drew her unresisting 
 to him. He felt her hair brush his face, and then he 
 took her in his arms, kissing her hotly, madly. 
 
 She was again as much frightened as anything else, 
 but she made no resistance she did not dare to 
 resist and half-pleased, half-startled, listened to his 
 vehement assurances of love. 
 
 They were not interrupted for some time, but at 
 last Sylvia heard a door open, and without a word fled
 
 102 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 away, through the next room and up the back stairs. 
 She got to her own room without meeting anybody, 
 and, locking the door, sat down with glowing cheeks 
 and quivering lips to think. But she was much too 
 excited to be able to think rationally. She could not 
 even make up her mind whether this wonderful thing 
 that had happened to her had pleased or only be- 
 wildered her. She remembered how often she had 
 declared to herself and to Floss that she did not mean 
 to get engaged for years, and now ! How would it 
 feel to be bound ? 
 
 As for Murray, he had no time as yet to regret his 
 rash step. Mrs. Kelly came in, on dusting intent, 
 and he had to account for his presence at this early 
 hour ; and then came lunch, to which he remained 
 on no invitation at all. 
 
 Here Sylvia made her appearance, looking most 
 demure, with her hair now coiled away smoothly, or 
 as smoothly as it ever would lie on the top of her 
 head. She received him with a fine increase of colour. 
 
 After lunch, some of the Egertons put in an 
 appearance, and Murray was carried off to try for a 
 shot on the lake. He had only a few minutes' 
 opportunity of speaking to Sylvia before he left 
 
 They were standing together in the hall, the others 
 having gone on in front. Murray glanced round to 
 see that they were out of sight ; then he stooped and 
 kissed her. 
 
 " My little sweetheart," he said tenderly, " this is 
 the first chance I have had of speaking to you alone 
 all the afternoon." 
 
 " I have wanted a chance," Sylvia said hurriedly ;
 
 FETTERED. 103 
 
 " I want to ask you to to say nothing about it to 
 any one for a bit please ! " 
 
 Mr. Murray's thoughts had not gone so far ahead, 
 and he was certainly in no hurry to announce the 
 engagement. 
 
 He only said : " Why not, Sylvia ? " 
 
 She hesitated for a moment, with a half-embarrassed 
 laugh. 
 
 " To tell you the truth, if you won't be angry," she 
 said reluctantly, " I don't want to be bound I should 
 hate it ! " 
 
 And without giving him time for an answer, she 
 quickly slid away from him and walked out of the 
 hall-door, leaving Murray to follow, half-amused and 
 half-annoyed, with a dim idea that perhaps his wishes 
 and hers were pretty nearly the same. 
 
 He certainly did not repent that night. He returned 
 to barracks in the evening feeling very happy, and 
 spent a whole hour before he went to bed smoking 
 and thinking of her, and his last waking remembrance 
 was her bright face and dark eyes.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 CONFIDENCES. 
 
 " SYLVIA, come out with me." 
 
 Mr. Murray was a decidedly imperious lover, and 
 put his hand on her shoulder in a most proprietary 
 way as they stood in the hall together next morning. 
 
 " Aren't you going to fish, then ? " she said. 
 
 " You know perfectly well I don't care a hang for 
 fishing to-day, or shooting either. I told Egerton I 
 would be over there this morning, and so I will in 
 an hour or so." 
 
 " Well, I suppose I must come," Sylvia answered 
 resignedly; " I sha'n't be a minute putting on my hat" 
 
 " Hurry then ; stop give me a kiss first." 
 
 " Oh, of course I will ! when some one might 
 come in at any moment." 
 
 " You will when I ask you," he said, but Sylvia was 
 too quick for him, and darted upstairs. 
 
 She found him in a fine state of sulkiness when she 
 came down, but it did not last long. They went into 
 the grounds, and found themselves a seat, well in the 
 shelter of the trees. 
 
 Then Murray spoke to her.
 
 CONFIDENCES. 105 
 
 " My darling ! " he said passionately, " now I have 
 got you to myself at last ! " 
 
 " You won't have me for long if you are going to 
 talk nonsense," said Sylvia, in a most practical tone ; 
 " we have got plenty of things to talk about, so don't 
 waste time." 
 
 She was sitting as near the edge of the old tree 
 trunk they had selected as was consistent with sitting 
 on it at all, and thereby most properly interposing 
 the largest amount of space possible between herself 
 and Murray. 
 
 " You are very unkind, Sylvia," he said, drawing a 
 little nearer, and looking at her with some amusement. 
 
 " Then you may kiss me once before we begin to 
 talk business," she said relcntingly ; "there I did not 
 mean like that ! Now," after a pause, " I want to ask 
 you some questions." 
 
 "Yes, darling." 
 
 " Well, first, Mr. Murray, do you mind my flirting 
 a little ? 
 
 " I mind your calling me Mr. Murray," he said 
 quickly. 
 
 " Then Arthur. I have not had time to get used 
 to it yet, but I think it is a very pretty name. I 
 should have hated you to have an ugly name. Well, 
 tell me ; I am not expected never to speak to another 
 man now, am I ? " 
 
 "You arc, I know, a hopeless little flirt," very 
 tenderly " no, not so long as it isn't too much, 
 darling." 
 
 " Very well," said Sylvia, in a relieved tone, " then 
 you won't be jealous ? "
 
 1 06 THE S TOR Y OF S YL VIA . 
 
 " I am afraid I can't promise that ; I shall be 
 horribly jealous of any one who takes you away 
 from me for a moment. 
 
 " I wish you would be sensible and practical," said 
 Sylvia, who perhaps did not object so very much after 
 all ; " you talk as if you were going to live here." 
 
 " You won't allow me any illusions," said he, half- 
 laughing. " Any more questions ? Let me see : my 
 age is twenty-seven my income is ^2,000 a year, 
 plus my pay and a very dilapidated estate in Scot- 
 land, and I am absolutely my own master. There 
 is that practical enough, and don't I deserve a 
 reward ? " 
 
 " But there is another thing I want to ask you," 
 said Sylvia, a little later. " Must I am I supposed 
 to tell you everything ? " 
 
 " Certainly," he replied promptly ; " what are you 
 going to tell me ? You have hardly had time to be 
 engaged before ! " 
 
 " Perhaps," meditatively and half aloud, " I ought 
 to tell him about Jack Dalrymple." 
 
 " And who on earth is Jack Dalrymple ? " said Mr. 
 Murray, hastily. 
 
 " He he is so nice," answered Sylvia, softly and 
 still half to herself. 
 
 " Indeed ? " Murray's wrath was rising, and he let 
 her hand go. 
 
 " He is awfully good-looking better looking than 
 you are," in a tone of dispassionate consideration. 
 
 " Very likely," stonily; " I suppose you are engaged 
 to him ? " 
 
 " No o, not engaged" returned Sylvia, in a most
 
 CONFIDENCES. 107 
 
 agreeable, conversational tone, "but we have spent 
 some very pleasant days together." 
 
 " I am glad to hear it." Murray's tone was ice. 
 " You have omitted as yet to tell me who this 
 paragon is." 
 
 " He is the brother of one of the day-boarders at 
 school, and his sister was a great friend of mine. She 
 used to bring me letters from him nearly every day, 
 and I often spent week-ends with them." 
 
 " Oh, I see." 
 
 " It was such fun," breaking into a laugh ; " she 
 used always to leave the letter in my French grammar, 
 and so, when they thought I was busy learning French, 
 I used to read the epistles, and I am afraid I wrote 
 the answers instead of writing my French exercises, 
 very often." 
 
 " Very amusing, I am sure," replied Murray, stiffly. 
 " Egerton will be wondering what has become of me ; 
 I won't detain you any longer." 
 
 Murray was dangerously polite, and, in fact, 
 thoroughly in a temper. 
 
 Then Sylvia suddenly turned to him. 
 
 " Now," she said, " you are jealous most abomin- 
 ably, inexcusably jealous ! I do hate a jealous 
 man, and I am very glad I have found you out in 
 time!" 
 
 Murray fairly gasped at having the tables so 
 suddenly turned upon him and finding himself the 
 accused instead of the accuser. 
 
 " You are jealous ! " Sylvia went on, remorselessly, 
 " and of Jack Dalrymplc ! " in a tone of supreme 
 contempt.
 
 io8 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 " Well " Murray only relaxed a very little " have 
 I not reason to be ? " 
 
 Then Sylvia's manner changed all at once, and she 
 slid her soft little hand into his. 
 
 "Arthur dear," she said caressingly, "you know 
 I would a thousand times rather have you ! " 
 
 The last lingering remains of Murray's resentment 
 vanished at her words, and there was an interval 
 during which Sylvia made no attempt to be practical. 
 
 " Now, don't you admit you were most horrid and 
 disagreeable ? " whispered she, a little later. 
 
 " But, my sweetheart, you talk of getting letters 
 from this man, and altogether " 
 
 " Are you not going to admit that you have been 
 most disagreeable, Arthur ? " 
 
 And Murray was so pleased at her using his 
 Christian name for the first time without hesitation, 
 that he was ready to agree to anything. 
 
 " But you must tell me about this Dalrymplc," he 
 said tenderly. 
 
 " You shall hear everything if you are nice," she 
 answered, softly stroking the hand which lay in hers ; 
 " he was great fun, but I don't care the least bit in 
 the world about him, only it was so slow at school." 
 
 " Did you see him often ? " 
 
 " Yes, rather, but not very often to talk to. I told 
 you he used to write to me." 
 
 " Since you left school ? " 
 
 " Well twice " reluctantly, yet with a certain 
 satisfaction. 
 
 " And you answered ? " 
 
 Yes his first letter."
 
 CONFIDENCES. 109 
 
 " How did you begin ? " 
 
 " Oh, Arthur, I wish you would stop," she said 
 coaxingly, rubbing her soft cheek up and down 
 against his. 
 
 "Tell me, little one," he persisted, but very tenderly. 
 
 " Well' Dear Jack.' " 
 
 " Not ' My dear ' ? " 
 
 " No, never, really. Now you are angry again, and 
 I have not told you the worst yet." 
 
 " This is pleasant ! " said he, rather apprehensively. 
 What was coming next ? 
 
 " Now, I can't tell you, unless you promise not to 
 be angry," very persuasively. 
 
 " I can't promise," he said. 
 
 " Then I won't tell you ! " she returned promptly ; 
 " you know I need not have told you anything about 
 Jack." 
 
 " Well, don't call him ' Jack,' darling, and I promise 
 I won't be angry ; I couldn't if I wanted to ever so." 
 
 " You are nice ! " Sylvia nestled close to him, laid 
 her curly head on his shoulder so that he could not 
 see her face, and began to twist one of the buttons 
 of his shooting jacket round and round. 
 
 " Arthur once, he he kissed me ! " she whispered, 
 becoming scarlet to the roots of her hair, and even 
 to the little bit of her neck that Murray could 
 see. 
 
 " He kissed you, did he ? " her lover repeated 
 angrily ; " did you let him, or was it against your 
 will ? " 
 
 " I did not really I did not know he was going to. 
 I was very angry. Arthur, it was only once "
 
 1 10 THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA. 
 
 And Murray felt his anger melting away. In five 
 minutes he had been talked over. 
 
 " But no one must ever kiss you again, my little 
 sweetheart," he said passionately, " no one but me ! 
 And you will not write to him again ? " 
 
 And Sylvia promised everything. 
 
 " And now," he went on again very tenderly, " you 
 have never once told me that you loved me, and I 
 have told you so so often."
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 A MEETING IN THE DARK. 
 
 THE next few days passed very quickly to Sylvia and 
 Murray. 
 
 Every afternoon, from that first happy day, when 
 Murray had refused to go to Mrs. Carr's tennis, and 
 stayed with Sylvia instead, he came over to Heath 
 Cottage or the Elms, and spent at least an hour in 
 her company, and every day he returned to barracks 
 feeling a little more in love with her than the day 
 before. It was characteristic of the boyishness which 
 still clung to him, in spite of his twenty-seven years 
 and the extent to which he had knocked about the 
 world, that he was sliding into love like any boy of 
 twenty, and with no more thought of the future. 
 
 He never said anything to Sylvia about announcing 
 their engagement, and she was quite content with the 
 present. 
 
 Of course people talked. Everybody in Delagherty, 
 save and except the Alisons themselves, had heard of 
 Sylvia's escapade on that Sunday, and now gossiped 
 about Murray's constant visits. 
 
 The Egertons heard of it, and Harry gave Sylvia 
 the benefit of his opinion as to her proceedings, while
 
 1 1 2 THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA. 
 
 Floss said nothing, because she could not make up 
 her mind to speak to Sylvia on the subject. 
 
 Poor Floss ! seeing Murray and Sylvia always 
 together and engrossed with each other was harder 
 than anything else to her, much as she despised her- 
 self for caring. Murray and she scarcely exchanged 
 more than a few words now when they met, and Floss 
 made those few words as brief as she could without 
 appearing to avoid him. 
 
 Murray'^ and Sylvia's badly-kept secret would, 
 however, hardly have remained one long, had the 
 former stayed on at Delagherty; but on the 24th, not 
 a week after his proposal to Sylvia, the detachment 
 suddenly received orders for Belfast. 
 
 Murray bade Sylvia a hurried farewell, and she 
 was left to feel lonely, though far from inconsolably 
 so, and with some very pleasant reminiscences to 
 cheer her. 
 
 Several months passed before they met again. 
 Murray wrote often and very lovingly, but leave was 
 unobtainable, as the riots kept all officers busy. 
 
 At last an opportunity came which Sylvia deter- 
 mined not to lose. 
 
 Every Hallow-e'en, with the greatest regularity, 
 the Alisons were expected to spend with Mrs. Craven, 
 the Aunt Alice whom Sylvia had gone to see on that 
 eventful Sunday. 
 
 But this year that young lady was determined 
 should be an exception as far as she was concerned. 
 She managed it as usual ; partly by pleadings, partly 
 by excuses, she contrived to persuade her father to 
 leave her behind, and let her spend the two nights he
 
 A MEETING IN THE DARK. 113 
 
 would be away with the Egertons. And then she 
 wrote to Murray to be sure to get leave, and to take 
 advantage of Harry Egerton's standing invitation. 
 
 Sylvia cared little for Harry's significant observa- 
 tions when Murray's letter arrived, asking if they 
 could take him in on the 3Oth, if he could manage to 
 get leave. She was so accustomed to everything 
 coming right for her so accustomed, that she never 
 feared Murray's leave being refused, and was not sur- 
 prised when he telegraphed to say that he was coming. 
 
 She was a very happy girl, when she had seen her 
 father safely off and was free to walk over to the 
 Elms, to find Mr. Murray as comfortably established 
 by the drawing-room fire as if he had never been 
 away. Floss watched their quiet meeting; she saw 
 the tender light in Murray's eyes as he spoke to his 
 little love saw, too, how Sylvia's fair little face flushed 
 with delight 
 
 And yet, in one way, that young lady's usual good 
 luck seemed to have deserted her that evening. They 
 burnt nuts, and Murray put on two, whose names he 
 refused, with a glance at Sylvia, to tell, and who 
 flamed up furiously ; and then the children, led by 
 Harry of course, ducked for apples, and tried to blow 
 out candles, nearly setting the room on fire in their 
 efforts. 
 
 But Harry was seized with such intense politeness 
 as to decline to leave Murray for one moment, so he 
 and Sylvia had no chance of speaking to each other, 
 except before the general public. 
 
 Once, and once only, they had a few minutes 
 together alone, just before the girls went up to bed.
 
 ii 4 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 Floss had lingered behind to get some grease off the 
 carpet, the result of the children's exploits with the 
 candles, and as she came out into the hall she heard 
 Murray, who was lighting Sylvia's candle for her, say 
 in a pleading voice : 
 
 " When I have come so far, and have had such 
 hard lines of it this evening. Remember, I have only 
 one day more. Just for once, for a few minutes even." 
 
 " I daren't," answered Sylvia, in a low tone, and 
 then Floss went hastily forward. 
 
 They both started, and drew apart quickly. 
 
 " Good -night, Mr. Murray," said Floss, very quietly ; 
 " come along, Sylvia." 
 
 But Sylvia lingered for a minute, and whispered 
 something hastily to the young man. 
 
 " All right," he said, half-aloud, and then she ran 
 after Floss with a gay " Good-night." Their rooms 
 were next door, and Floss went in with Sylvia for a 
 few minutes. 
 
 The latter subsided into a chair, clasping her hands 
 behind her head. She was looking even prettier than 
 usual, and Floss could not help noticing that her eyes 
 were bright with excitement. She felt vaguely and 
 inexplicably uneasy, partly owing to what she had 
 heard, and stood looking silently at Sylvia. 
 
 " You mustn't stay long to-night," Sylvia said, after 
 a pause ; " I am very tired and sleepy, and not a bit 
 inclined to talk." 
 
 " You don't look either tired or sleepy," returned 
 Floss, gravely ; " shall I brush your hair for you ? " 
 
 " No, thank you ; I will make very little brushing 
 do to-night, so as to get quickly into bed."
 
 A MEETING IN THE DARK. 115 
 
 Floss suspected the genuineness of the yawn which 
 accompanied this speech. 
 
 She said " Good-night," and went to her room, but 
 she did not undress at once. She sat by her window, 
 looking into the moonlight, and wondering uneasily 
 what Sylvia had said she dared riot do, and then had 
 seemed to consent to. She knew the girl's reckless- 
 ness only too well the utter recklessness and fear- 
 lessness of innocence. 
 
 Nothing would have offended Sylvia more than to 
 tell her that she was innocent, but Floss understood 
 very well that it was because the girl knew so little, 
 that she did not recognise the harm she was doing 
 herself by the way in which she acted. 
 
 Meanwhile Sylvia made no attempt to undress. She 
 smoothed her hair before the glass, then, throwing a 
 shawl round her bare shoulders, she, too, seated herself 
 by her window. 
 
 But she did not give herself up to any connected 
 thought at all. Every few minutes she started up 
 excitedly and listened, then sat down again with 
 disappointment. 
 
 Almost an hour passed before she did hear any- 
 thing. Noisily the young men came upstairs, growing 
 quieter when they reached the landing. She heard 
 their subdued " Good-nights," and their doors shut, 
 more or less softly. 
 
 Ten minutes later there was a gentle tap at her 
 own door. Gentle as it was, Floss heard it as well 
 as Sylvia, for her ears had been alive too, ever since 
 the young men came up. Sylvia jumped up hastily, 
 and, crossing the room, softly opened the door.
 
 1 16 THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA. 
 
 " My darling, I am awfully sorry ; I could not get 
 away before. You are a darling to have waited up 
 for me." 
 
 Murray said this in a passionate whisper, as he 
 drew her to him and held her close. 
 
 " I can't stay a minute," she whispered quickly, " I 
 am so terribly afraid of some one coming." 
 
 "Don't be foolish, my little sweetheart," he answered, 
 kissing her again and again, " there is no chance of 
 any one coming." 
 
 " No ; but if they did ! oh, Arthur, do let me go ! " 
 
 " Shall I " he hesitated for a moment " shall I 
 come into your room then, darling, and there will be 
 no danger ? " 
 
 But even Sylvia was startled by this proposal. 
 
 " Oh, no, no, no," she returned nervously, " let me 
 go oh, Arthur, there is a door opening " 
 
 " Nonsense, my darling," he said ; but she was 
 right all the same. 
 
 As noiselessly as Sylvia's had done, Floss's door 
 opened, and, a candle in her hand, she stood quietly 
 on the threshold. 
 
 Murray let Sylvia go hastily, and the two stood, 
 utterly silenced and dismayed. Then Sylvia went 
 quickly into her room, shutting and locking the door 
 after her. 
 
 Murray hastily made a step forward. 
 
 " Don't think too badly of me, Miss Egerton," he 
 said. 
 
 " Could I think too badly of this ? " she returned ; 
 " Sylvia is reckless, but you you understand better 
 than she how could you let her risk being caught ? "
 
 A MEETING IN THE DARK. 117 
 
 She turned, and began to close her door, but he 
 came forward. 
 
 " Won't you listen to me for just one moment ? " he 
 began, humbly. 
 
 " No," she answered coldly ; " go back to your 
 room, Mr. Murray ; there is nothing more to be said." 
 
 And she shut her door as quietly as possible, 
 leaving him standing out there in the dark, very 
 thoroughly conscience-stricken and ashamed of him- 
 self.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 MURRAY TALKS TO FLOSS, AND SYLVIA TO 
 HER FATHER. 
 
 MURRAY was a man who could not bear to be on bad 
 terms with any one, more especially with any girl, 
 and most especially with one for whom he cared as 
 much as he did for Floss. 
 
 He fully made up his mind, before he got into bed 
 that night, that he must have a talk with her, and 
 also as to when he would have it. 
 
 So next morning, when he was called, instead of 
 turning over and going to sleep again, he got up, 
 dressed as quickly as possible, and went out to where 
 he knew he would find Floss in the yard with her 
 beloved fowls. After a short search, he discovered 
 her in one of the sheds, busily engaged in feeding a 
 brood of half-grown chickens with porridge and milk, 
 amusedly watching them scatter it all over themselves 
 and each other. 
 
 " Oh, you greedy things ! " she said, half aloud, 
 with a little laugh ; then, hearing Murray's step, she 
 hastily got up. 
 
 "Good morning, Miss Egerton," he said, in a 
 decidedly humble and conciliatory tone. 
 
 118
 
 MURRAY TALKS TO FLOSS. 119 
 
 " Good morning," she replied, coldly. 
 
 " Can I help you ? " with a most deprecating look. 
 
 " No, thank you," stiffly, " I must go back to the 
 house." 
 
 " After my getting up on purpose to speak to 
 you ? " 
 
 " Have you anything to say ? " 
 
 Floss's tone was the reverse of encouraging, but 
 Murray was fully determined upon an explanation. 
 
 " You are very angry with me about last night, I 
 know," he said meekly, " and I know I deserve it. 
 But really, Miss Egerton, believe me it was only 
 thoughtlessness wicked thoughtlessness, if you like." 
 
 Floss said nothing, and looked impassive. 
 
 " I asked -her to speak to me when I came up to 
 bed, without ever thinking ; and then, when I found 
 how late it was, I wished I had not, but I knew she 
 would be expecting me, and I could not have left her 
 like that, could I ? " 
 
 " You ought never to have asked her at all." 
 
 " I know that. You know I have often told you 
 how I do things on the impulse of the moment. I 
 cannot help myself, really I cannot." 
 
 " I have often told you, Mr. Murray, that that is 
 nonsense." Poor Floss ; she spoke severely, but it 
 was because she did not dare to speak otherwise 
 she was afraid of herself. 
 
 " You are very hard, but I deserve it," he answered. 
 " I am very sorry ; won't you forgive me ? You have 
 often forgiven me before." 
 
 All Floss's resolution melted away at this allusion 
 to old times. She turned hastily away.
 
 120 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 " Don't let us talk of it any more," she said in a 
 low voice, after a moment's pause ; " only promise me 
 you will never let it happen again." 
 
 " I promise to try," he answered, coming nearer to 
 her ; " I don't mean that as a put-off, but I am afraid 
 to promise." 
 
 " I can't be friends with you unless you do," she 
 said softly. 
 
 "Then I do promise, and I will keep it, Miss 
 Egerton. Now we are friends, aren't we ? Let's 
 shake hands upon it." 
 
 He was quite boyishly jubilant, and they were 
 almost upon the old terms again as they fastened the 
 door of the chickens' cage, hunted for eggs, paid a 
 visit to the calves, and then sauntered up the avenue 
 together, to oversee the getting ready of breakfast. 
 
 And Murray insisted on coming to help Floss to 
 make the toast and boil the eggs, which they had 
 only just finished when the gong went for prayers. 
 
 Sylvia did not make her appearance till the rest 
 were seated at breakfast, when she came in, looking 
 very pretty and very defiant, and took her seat with a 
 brief " Good morning." 
 
 To tell the truth, Miss Sylvia was very much 
 frightened by the events of the night before, and 
 consequently very angry with Murray. 
 
 She would have nothing whatever to say to him 
 after breakfast, but ran straight up to her own room, 
 and locked herself in ; and after waiting about in 
 hopes of her reappearance, as long as he could find 
 excuses for so doing, Murray went off to shoot with 
 Harry, feeling very much provoked.
 
 MURRAY TALKS TO FLOSS. 121 
 
 Sylvia spent the morning in her own room, being 
 very anxious to avoid meeting Floss ; but as lunch 
 time drew near, she began to think that she had 
 punished Murray sufficiently, and that she was 
 punishing herself as well as him. Besides, he would 
 be at the Elms such a short time it seemed a pity to 
 waste it 
 
 She was making up her mind to go downstairs and 
 see if there was any sign of the shooters' return, when 
 there was a knock at the door, and to her extreme 
 surprise the servant announced that her father was in 
 the drawing-room, and wanted to see her. 
 
 Sylvia's first feeling was, characteristically, intense 
 disappointment at the prospect of her stay at the 
 Egertons coming to an end that day instead of the 
 next ; then a sudden alarm, lest anything should be 
 wrong with her aunt, seized her, and she ran down- 
 stairs. 
 
 Her father was standing by the fire, and Sylvia 
 noticed that he was looking very grave. He let her 
 kiss him in silence, and without attempting any return, 
 and answered her questions about her aunt with a 
 brief reply that she was quite well. 
 
 " I came home a day sooner than I intended, 
 Sylvia," he continued, " because, I am sorry to say, I 
 have heard some very unpleasant reports about you, 
 and I wish to know from yourself if they are 
 true." 
 
 The defiant look returned to Sylvia's pretty face at 
 once ; she had expected something of the kind some 
 day, and was not taken wholly by surprise. 
 
 " Well, father," she said, " if you tell me what you
 
 122 THE STORY OF SYL VIA. 
 
 have heard, I shall be more likely to be able to 
 answer." 
 
 "Is it true that the day you went down to see your 
 Aunt Alice, some weeks ago, you came away by an 
 early train, and spent the interval between that and 
 your return home at Belderry with Mr. Murray ? " 
 her father asked sternly. 
 
 " Quite true," was all Sylvia answered. 
 
 " Then I need hardly ask if the rest is true also ; 
 that you went out boating with him there, went to a 
 private room in a hotel, and drove home with him ? " 
 
 " It is all perfectly true," Sylvia answered, shortly. 
 
 Mr. Alison was very angry. Naturally enough the 
 proceeding seemed to him even worse than it really 
 was, viewing it as he did as a pre-arranged affair, 
 and unable to understand how the excitement of the 
 moment could carry Sylvia away, and how little she 
 realised her rashness. 
 
 " I am ashamed of you ! " he exclaimed ; " you have 
 behaved most disgracefully, and it is no wonder that 
 you and Mr. Murray are the common talk of the 
 country. If you cannot conduct yourself with the 
 commonest propriety when you are left to yourself, 
 I must take care you have no chance of disgracing 
 yourself again. I don't want any fuss to be made, but 
 you certainly shall not remain at the Elms while Mr. 
 Murray is here. You will return home during the 
 afternoon. You can make any excuse you like ; 
 being such a dutiful daughter," bitterly, "nobody need 
 be surprised if you say you must come home to me." 
 
 Certainly Mr. Alison did not know the way to 
 manage Sylvia. A few loving words would have had
 
 MURRAY TALKS TO FLOSS. 123 
 
 her apologetic and submissive, but she felt he had 
 said more than she deserved, and hardened herself to 
 show no sign of being affected in any way. She 
 watched her father leave the room in sullen silence, 
 looking very unlike her bright, good-tempered self, 
 but when he had gone she could restrain her tears no 
 longer. One thing after another had reduced her to 
 a state of nervous shame she had never known in her 
 life before. 
 
 Her one idea was to see Mr. Murray, and she 
 watched anxiously for his return, and ran to meet him 
 when she saw him in the distance, in total oblivion of 
 their coolness of that morning. 
 
 Murray was accompanied by a keeper, but he sent 
 him on, while he lingered behind with Sylvia. He 
 was pleased and flattered by her coming to meet him, 
 taking it for granted that she was sorry for her cold- 
 ness. 
 
 But Sylvia waited for no exchange of explanations 
 or forgiveness ; she poured out her tale to him, almost 
 incoherent in her haste and distress. 
 
 Murray was considerably taken aback. He had 
 hoped that their little adventure was over and done 
 with, and was provoked to find it a subject of annoy- 
 ance so long after. 
 
 " There is only one thing to be done, darling," he 
 said gravely, "you must let me tell your father of 
 our engagement. I can't have any one worrying 
 you now." 
 
 And Sylvia assented, gladly, even eagerly. 
 
 " I will walk over to Heath Cottage with you after 
 lunch," he added, as they entered the house.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 PARTING. 
 
 " WAIT for me here, little one ; I won't be long. 
 Keep up your courage." 
 
 And Murray kissed the girl very tenderly as they 
 stood together in the shrubbery. 
 
 " Good luck to you, Arthur ! " she answered lightly, 
 but his face was grave. 
 
 " Don't be too sure of things going right," he said. 
 
 But Sylvia was quite sure. Nothing had ever gone 
 wrong with her yet, and she had no fears. Murray's 
 gravity had made no impression on her spirits, which 
 had risen to their usual height 
 
 She waited impatiently for his return, but with 
 absolutely no alarm. Murray had money, she knew, 
 and she had money so what objection could there be ? 
 
 It seemed to her a long time before she saw him 
 coming back to her, but even then there was nothing 
 in his face to alarm her. Grave he always looked, 
 and Sylvia had not yet learned to read the expression 
 of his eyes. 
 
 She ran forward to meet him. 
 
 " Well ? " she said impatiently.
 
 PARTING. 125 
 
 " Come and sit down beside me," said Murray, his 
 grave, pleasant voice lower than usual. 
 
 And even when they had established themselves on 
 one of the many seats among the trees, Sylvia had 
 time for another impatient " Well, Arthur ? " before 
 he spoke. 
 
 " Look here, my little girl," he said, " I told you I 
 was afraid everything wouldn't run straight for us." 
 
 For the first time Sylvia was alarmed. 
 
 " Why, what is the matter ? " she cried anxiously. 
 
 " Nothing very much, my pet, but Sylvia," he 
 broke off, " I have never tried to make out to you 
 that I had always kept straight, have I ?" 
 
 " No, dear," said Sylvia, caressingly and anxiously, 
 " but tell me what is wrong ? " 
 
 She was divided between alarm and a certain 
 enjoyment of the situation. A dim vista of an 
 adamantine parent, of faithful lovers, and ultimate 
 marriage in the very far distance, all obstacles being 
 triumphantly overcome, presented itself to her. 
 
 Sylvia knew nothing of "hope deferred which 
 maketh the heart sick," and felt capable of bearing a 
 short separation from Mr. Murray with great equa- 
 nimity with much more than she could have con- 
 templated the idea of immediate marriage. 
 
 These thoughts passed rapidly through her head as 
 she spoke ; but of course Murray, with his mind full of 
 the desire to give her as little pain as possible, did not 
 guess that his care was not exactly necessary. 
 
 " Sylvia, your father does not think I shall make 
 you a good enough husband," he said gently. " I agree 
 with him there, but still "
 
 126 THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA . 
 
 " But still, my opinion is the chief point," said 
 Sylvia, decisively ; " now tell me why ? " 
 
 Murray reddened. 
 
 " That's just the point, darling," he said ; " there are 
 things things a man doesn't care to say to the girl 
 he's engaged to." 
 
 " But, Arthur " she began indignantly. 
 
 " I will tell you, if you insist upon it," he answered, 
 " but I will ask you not, dear. Your father can tell 
 you, if he chooses. There's no mystery about it at 
 all," he added hastily " just I have not always been 
 steady, but with your help, my darling 
 
 If Murray had not said that he would tell her if she 
 liked, Sylvia would have never rested till he had done 
 so, but as it was, she felt herself in a sort of way put 
 upon her honour not to ask any more questions. 
 
 " I suppose," she said softly, " that a man can't tell 
 a girl everything, as she can him." 
 
 " I am afraid very few can, my sweetheart," he 
 answered, " and I am not one of the few. You will 
 have to take me a bit on trust, darling will you ? " 
 
 And Sylvia, looking more serious than he had ever 
 seen her, answered, " Yes." 
 
 " You shall never repent it," he returned passion - 
 ately ; " I can tell you so much, that if I have ever 
 drunk more than was good for me, and played more 
 than I could afford, with your help I hope it will 
 never happen again. Now, are you ready to stick to 
 me, dear ? " 
 
 " Of course ; I have promised," she said softly. 
 
 " Then nothing can matter much. Your father has 
 refused his consent to our engagement, but it will all
 
 PARTING. 127 
 
 come right in time, never fear. But I am afraid that 
 after to-day I shall not see you for a long time again." 
 
 He kissed her as he spoke, and sitting there together 
 they began to make arrangements and exchange 
 promises very seriously on the part of Murray, who 
 was always deeply in earnest for the time being, and 
 more than half carelessly on Sylvia's part 
 
 Even when it was time to say good-bye, she was 
 very far from realising what a long good-bye it might 
 mean, and though flattered by her lover's reluctance 
 to leave her, took things very calmly herself. 
 
 As for him, he realised "it very thoroughly indeed, 
 and felt he had never understood before how much he 
 cared for Sylvia. 
 
 It was not the first painful parting this young man 
 had known in his twenty-seven years of life very far 
 from it ! but he had never found custom make it any 
 less bitter. He knew that he might perhaps never 
 hold her in his arms again, a thought which simply 
 did not enter Sylvia's head. 
 
 " Good-bye, and God bless you, my darling," he said 
 passionately ; " don't forget me ! " 
 
 And turning, he walked resolutely away. 
 
 Sylvia watched him till his tall figure disappeared 
 among the trees, then she, too, slowly moved away in 
 the direction of the house.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 AN ADAMANTINE PARENT. 
 
 SYLVIA did not see her father till dinner, during which 
 she conducted herself in the most martyr-like manner. 
 She was silent for the most part, but answered, when 
 her father addressed her, sadly but most amiably ; 
 she ate very little, even refusing, though with a pang, 
 a second helping of raspberry tart, and looked the 
 picture of hardly-treated submission. 
 
 Poor Mr. Alison felt himself a brute, as he ate his 
 own dinner, watched by his daughter's reproachful 
 eyes, and when she rose to go upstairs he could stand 
 it no longer. 
 
 " Sylvia, wait for a moment," he said, " I want to 
 speak to you." Never before had such a meek " Yes> 
 father," come from that young lady's lips. 
 
 Mr. Alison fidgeted with the dates on his plate, 
 casting furtive glances at the girl's pretty, downcast 
 face. 
 
 " I am afraid this is a very foolish business," he 
 began, in an apologetic tone. " I am very sorry to vex 
 you, Sylvia, but I think I have told you before that 
 I should not care for you to have much to do with 
 Mr. Murray." 
 
 128
 
 AN ADAMANTINE PARENT. 129 
 
 " I won't hear a word against him ! " Sylvia broke 
 in hastily. 
 
 " Very well : all I want you to understand is that 
 you are not to be engaged to him." 
 
 Sylvia was silent. 
 
 " You understand that I won't have correspondence 
 or anything of that sort ? " 
 
 " I have promised to write to Arthur," replied 
 Sylvia, in what she flattered herself was a tone of 
 mild firmness. 
 
 " But I forbid you to do so," her father returned 
 angrily. 
 
 " I am sorry, father, but I have promised Arthur to 
 be his wife, so I consider I owe it to him to obey him 
 before any one." 
 
 Mr. Alison was hurt by this magnificent speech, 
 and its immediate effect was to make him still more 
 angry and utterly perplexed. 
 
 " What am I to do with you ! " he said helplessly ; 
 " you don't know what you are talking about, Sylvia ! 
 Good heavens ! at your age you ought to be thinking 
 of your lessons, and not of love affairs ! " 
 
 He could not possibly have made a more unwise 
 speech ; Sylvia's dignity was insulted now, to add to 
 her injured feelings. 
 
 " You are most unreasonable, father ! " she ex- 
 claimed ; " you forbid me to be engaged to a man I 
 care for, without even giving me a reason ! " 
 
 " My dear Sylvia," her father said, with great ex- 
 asperation, " you refused to hear a word against him 
 just now. Isn't it enough if I tell you that to put 
 
 10
 
 1 30 THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA. 
 
 it plainly his being drunk at mess is not an occas- 
 sional occurrence, that " 
 
 " If it happened every night, it would make me all 
 the more anxious to be able to look after him," Sylvia 
 interrupted. 
 
 " You don't know what you are talking about, my 
 poor child," Mr. Alison said very truly ; " do believe 
 I mean for the best" 
 
 " I can't give up Arthur," Sylvia said, but there was 
 a little softening in her voice. 
 
 Her father looked at her and sighed. 
 
 " My poor little girl. A woman would know what 
 to say to you, for I do not," he muttered, and Sylvia 
 melted at once. " I don't mean to be unkind, and I 
 hate to hurt you." 
 
 She got up, and came over to her father, putting 
 her arms round his neck, and rubbing her soft cheek 
 caressingly against his. 
 
 " Gov. dear," she said, Mr. Murray's dislike to the 
 word forgotten in her eagerness, " no one could be 
 half as nice as you ; and " coaxingly, " you will let 
 me be engaged to Arthur ? " 
 
 " No, I can't agree to that, Sylvia. I am very sorry, 
 but I can't," Mr. Alison answered, and no persuasion 
 could move him further. 
 
 But Sylvia, when she bid him good-night, was very 
 far from considering that matters looked hopeless. 
 
 She slept very tranquilly indeed that night, and 
 awoke next morning feeling quite like a heroine of 
 romance. Her first proceeding, as soon as she knew 
 Murray must have left the Elms, was to go over there 
 and tell the whole story to Floss.
 
 AN ADAMANTINE PARENT. 131 
 
 Floss listened sympathisingly, though very silently ; 
 it did not come as a surprise to her. 
 
 She was a great deal more sorry for Sylvia than 
 was at all necessary, and between her sympathy, her 
 father's self-reproachful tenderness, and the prospect 
 of Murray's letters, that young lady was by no means 
 ill-content 
 
 She wrote to Murray that afternoon, a far from 
 doleful letter, and no fear of his future unfaithfulness 
 troubled her ; she had a great deal too happy a belief 
 in her own attractions to be uneasy. 
 
 And yet, had she known a little more about men 
 in general and Mr. Murray in particular, she might 
 not have been quite so placidly confident. But 
 Murray, engaged though he was to Sylvia, had never 
 made her his confessor. 
 
 And, on the whole, Murray and Sylvia were the 
 people who worried least about their engagement 
 Carelessly, and with scarcely a future thought, these 
 two had exchanged promises which should have been 
 only less solemn than those they hoped to exchange 
 some day at the altar.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 THE MARRIAGE EVE. 
 
 MR. ALISON sustained the character of an obdurate 
 parent for precisely six months, and, under the cir- 
 cumstances, that was quite as long as could have been 
 expected. 
 
 He gave in gracefully on the 2Oth of June, Sylvia's 
 nineteenth birthday, rewarded by her kisses and 
 unconcealed delight. And having once yielded so 
 far as to allow an engagement, he was willing to give 
 way altogether, and made no opposition to Murray's 
 desire that the marriage should be soon. There was 
 nothing to wait for, he told Sylvia who would have 
 preferred to have things remain as they were, free still 
 in a measure, and yet with the constant excitement 
 of Murray's visits. But Mr. Alison did not enjoy 
 Murray's visits so much as his daughter, and strongly 
 objected to feeling himself invariably de trop in his 
 own house. He declined to accept her idea of a state 
 of chronic engagement ; she must either marry Murray 
 or cease to have anything more to say to him---and 
 Sylvia had no doubt which of the two alternatives 
 she preferred. 
 
 So the wedding day was fixed for the i8th of
 
 THE MARRIAGE EVE. 133 
 
 October, the beginning of Murray's long leave, which 
 would give them two months free to amuse themselves 
 before settling down into married life. Meanwhile, 
 Sylvia proceeded to make the very most of her last 
 days as Miss Alison. Neither she nor Murray had 
 worn the willow during those six months of separa- 
 tion. More than once had Floss, who doubted the 
 constancy of both, wondered at Sylvia, and expected 
 to hear that Murray had been replaced. Above all, 
 when George Egerton came to spend a few weeks at 
 home, did Floss watch Sylvia with astonishment. 
 He and she were inseparable as inseparable as if 
 Murray had never existed. As for Harry, the little 
 episode which had disturbed his free-and-easy rela- 
 tions with Sylvia had passed unknown to Floss, and 
 was even half forgotten by the other two. He had 
 other and less pleasant things to think of just now, 
 having succeeded in once again failing in his ex- 
 amination. Certainly he made no attempt to act as 
 Murray's rival. 
 
 As for Sylvia, she was quite happy, and undisturbed 
 by any fears of unfaithfulness on the part of either 
 Murray or herself. Perhaps, had she understood his 
 character better, had she read his casual allusions to 
 the girls he met with less placidity, and allowed him 
 less latitude in his flirtations, he might have found the 
 tie a burden. As it was, they remained practically 
 truer to each other than many people beginning with 
 a higher ideal of the duties of an engagement might 
 have done, and neither ever knew how near the other 
 had sometimes been to unfaithfulness. They had 
 stuck to each other somehow, perhaps almost because
 
 134 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 they expected so little from each other. When the 
 engagement was announced, the whole countryside 
 said much what Floss thought without saying that 
 it would not come to anything. So time went on, 
 and the i8th of October drew near. Mr. Alison 
 laughed at the idea of Sylvia as a staid matron, and 
 Floss sighed. Sylvia's excitement over her trousseau, 
 and every small detail connected with the wedding 
 itself, puzzled her. Her thoughts seemed so engrossed 
 by these considerations, that she had leisure to look 
 upon Murray as little more than an appendage to all 
 this excitement and preparation. Floss doubted 
 much if she had given any serious thought to her 
 marriage. But, carelessly or seriously undertaken, 
 rash or prudent, the time drew near, September made 
 way for October, and once this month had begun, the 
 days seemed to fly. At last came the evening of the 
 1 7th Sylvia's last evening in her old home. The 
 Egertons all came over to spend it with her, and 
 Murray, of course, who was staying at the Elms, 
 beside other secondary performers in the great event 
 of to-morrow. Outside there was whistling wind and 
 driving rain, offering a doubtful augury for the next 
 day ; but nothing damped the merriment of the party 
 by the fire in the drawing-room at Heath Hall ; if 
 anything, the dismalness without rather emphasised 
 their cheerfulness by contrast. 
 
 Sylvia was the centre of attraction, of course, lying 
 back in a low chair, with the firelight flickering oaher 
 fair hair, making herself extremely agreeable to the 
 gentleman who next day was to fill the important 
 office of best man, a fair-haired young fellow of two
 
 THE MARRIAGE EVE. 135 
 
 or three and thirty, with a pleasant, self-possessed 
 manner. 
 
 The year had not changed Sylvia much she was 
 no less giddy and heedless at nineteen than she had 
 been at eighteen, and her face had not lost its childish, 
 appealing look. 
 
 Her grand-aunt sitting next her, stealing loving 
 glances at her darling's face, had grown perceptibly 
 frailer since the days of Sylvia's rash expedition, and 
 Floss had changed a little, but for the better ; she 
 looked younger and brighter than she had done a 
 year ago, and some of the primness of her manner 
 had worn off. And besides, there was Harry, as little 
 changed as Sylvia, as boyish, as careless, as occupa- 
 tionless as ever ; and Bessy and Kitty and Dicky 
 Egerton, besides a stranger, Nell Dalrymple, a school 
 friend of Sylvia's. 
 
 Murray is mentioned last, but he certainly was not 
 the least important of the party. 
 
 He stood by the fireplace, his dark eyes sometimes 
 seeking Sylvia's, and, to confess the truth he wished 
 the rest away most sincerely. 
 
 But Murray never looked bored, and was always 
 courteous, and had already gained Miss Dalrymple's 
 enthusiastic approval. 
 
 " The cake has come," said Sylvia ; " who would 
 like to see it ? " 
 
 Sylvia was not afflicted with shyness on the subject 
 of her marriage, and Floss wondered, half shocked, 
 at her readiness to enter into details about it with 
 or before anybody. 
 
 She wondered again now, as Sylvia dispatched
 
 136 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 Harry for the cake and oversaw the unpacking of It 
 with deep interest. Murray was shyer about it, and 
 did not come to the front, or make much response 
 when Sylvia called upon him to admire it. 
 
 The party broke up soon after. Everybody, 
 except Floss and Miss Dalrymple, was going back to 
 the Elms for the night, and there was a great putting 
 on of coats and collecting of umbrellas in the hall. 
 
 And Sylvia had a little private word for everybody. 
 
 A chaffing good-night for Captain Crayshaw, " for 
 the last time as Sylvia Alison ; " a kiss for the 
 children, even for Dicky, whom she did not love by 
 any means, and a few whispered words with Harry, 
 as he held her hand for a minute. 
 
 " Jealous, Harry ? " 
 
 But his laugh was very heartwhole. 
 
 " Not a bit, my dear ; I was never very hard hit." 
 
 "Mind you have your party in good time then ; 
 I trust to Captain Crayshaw to look after Arthur in 
 particular." 
 
 And then, very much sans fa$on> she held up her 
 cheek to Arthur to kiss in the dusk of the hall, and 
 found the others had discreetly retired in different 
 directions with admirable promptitude. 
 
 " Till to-morrow, my darling !"he said, passionately 
 kissing her. 
 
 "Till to-morrow, dear boy ; be in good time, and 
 don't get wet going to Heath Hall. You mustn't 
 begin married life with a cold in your head ! " 
 
 " I am not likely to be late to-morrow," he said 
 tenderly. 
 
 " Well, you see, I never have known you exactly in
 
 THE MARRIAGE EVE. 137 
 
 time for anything. Let me fill your pipe for you," 
 and she took it out of his pocket as she spoke. " Now, 
 Arthur, to-night is your last chance of drawing back : 
 are you quite sure you want to marry me ? " 
 
 And Sylvia leant up against him and looked into 
 his face. 
 
 " Do you want my opinion on that subject all over 
 again, little girl ? " he said, his dark face full of love ; 
 " I wish I could marry you this moment I hate to 
 leave you now, for fear anything might possibly 
 happen before to-morrow ! Oh, my darling my 
 darling ! " 
 
 And Sylvia trembled at the passion she had 
 evoked. She gently disengaged herself from his 
 tight clasp. 
 
 " There, your pipe is ready, dear," she said ; but 
 for once he did not take much interest in his pipe. 
 "Good-night to you, dearest," she said, leaning up 
 to fasten the top button of his coat ; and then putting 
 her arms round his neck, she kissed him, smoothing 
 back his dark hair from his forehead.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 TWO CONVERSATIONS, 
 
 SYLVIA had had the best intentions of going to bed 
 early that night, in preparation for the next day, but 
 it was nearer twelve than eleven o'clock when she and 
 Floss found themselves alone in her room, which 
 Floss was to share for the night by special request. 
 
 There was her aunt to say good-night to, then her 
 father, who said little, but kissed her very tenderly, 
 and wondered at himself for feeling the prospect of 
 the blank his little daughter would leave so much. 
 
 Of course, too, Miss Dalrymple had to be seen to 
 her room, and she and Sylvia exchanged old school 
 reminiscences for some time, beginning by a lengthy 
 message from the melancholy Jack, the subject of 
 Sylvia's first confession to Murray. 
 
 And when finally she and Floss were together, 
 Sylvia at first rattled on with nervous gaiety about 
 her presents, the people who had called on her, the 
 breakfast next day, and so on. 
 
 " There is one thing," she said : " if Arthur and I are 
 to lose the dancing and the fun, we must at least take 
 some of the cake with us ! It looks far too delicious 
 
 138
 
 TWO CONVERSATIONS. 139 
 
 to leave wholly to all of you. You have got the list 
 of the people to send it to all right, haven't you ? " 
 
 " Yes, don't bother about that. Miss Dalrymple 
 and I will attend to it." 
 
 " Don't forget George is to have nearly all almond 
 paste. Oh, Floss," and Sylvia's voice suddenly 
 quivered, and she came over to Floss, who was 
 brushing her hair before the glass, and laid her hand 
 on her shoulder " I don't think I want to be married 
 to-morrow." 
 
 Floss let the hair-brush fall to the ground with 
 a crash, and in quick alarm put her arm round 
 Sylvia. 
 
 " What is it ? What is the matter, Sylvia ? " she 
 said anxiously. 
 
 " I don't know. I think I am afraid, Floss," and 
 Sylvia raised her head and looked eagerly at her 
 companion. " Should you say I am very much in love 
 with Arthur ? " 
 
 Floss smiled, in spite of herself. 
 
 " You ought to know best," she said, " but you 
 certainly have every appearance of being so." 
 
 " Do you remember once, ages and ages ago, Floss, 
 I told you I thought Arthur was selfish? Do you 
 think he is ? " 
 
 " That is another question you ought to know the 
 answer to best yourself," said Floss, gravely. 
 
 " Well, but tell me. If you were in my place, 
 would you be content to marry Arthur ? " 
 
 The time was past when that question would have 
 given Floss pain to answer. She was not the sort of 
 girl to continue to wear the willow for a man who did
 
 140 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 not care for her, and she had long ago ceased to take 
 more than a friendly interest in him for Sylvia's 
 sake. 
 
 Nevertheless she paused for a moment before 
 answering, with a sudden remembrance of what 
 might have been. 
 
 " Sylvia, if I cared for Mr. Murray, or any other 
 man, as a girl ought to care for the man she is going 
 to marry, I think I should believe love would make 
 up for everything." 
 
 " And yet you have never been in love, my poor 
 Floss so what is the good of my asking you ! And 
 in any case, you would never be not sure whether you 
 were really in love with a man or not, after being 
 engaged for months ! " 
 
 And then Floss suddenly remembered another part 
 of the conversation they had had long ago, which 
 Sylvia had just alluded to ; she remembered how the 
 girl had said that if she married a man she thought 
 she loved, and found herself mistaken, she would not 
 consider herself bound. 
 
 "Oh, Sylvia!" she said, "it is not too late yet, if 
 you are not sure. Would you prefer everything to be 
 at an end ? Do you really not want to marry Mr. 
 Murray ? " 
 
 But Sylvia stared at her. 
 
 " Not marry him now when everything is ready ! 
 Not marry him, and have every one say I was jilted 
 at the last moment ! Are you mad, Floss ? " 
 
 " But if you do not love him ? " Floss persisted. 
 
 " Don't be absurd," said Sylvia, fretfully ; " I have 
 been talking nonsense, and been ridiculously nervous.
 
 TWO CONVERSATIONS. 141 
 
 I am going to sleep now, and you will see if I don't 
 want to be married to-morrow ! " 
 
 And Floss could persuade her to say nothing more. 
 
 Meanwhile Murray and Crayshaw were talking of 
 the future too, though scarcely in the same way. 
 
 The two had retired to Murray's room, after a 
 smoke with Harry, and leaning out of his window, 
 were indulging in a final pipe. 
 
 Crayshaw and Murray had always been fast friends 
 since the latter had joined the regiment, though they 
 were as different as men well could be. 
 
 Crayshaw was a steady fellow, very fond of men's 
 sports and society, and caring very little for that of 
 ladies. 
 
 Murray and he hunted, shot, yachted, played foot- 
 ball and cricket together, and were generally con- 
 sidered very close friends, though Crayshaw seldom 
 went into society. 
 
 They were not a very talkative pair as a rule when 
 they were together, and they had smoked in silence 
 for some time before Crayshaw spoke. 
 
 " Well, old man," he said, " who would have 
 thought of your settling down and marrying ! " 
 
 " It does seem odd," Murray assented slowly ; " on 
 my honour, I can scarcely believe it myself." 
 
 " I did not believe you would ever be seriously 
 enough gone on a girl to care to marry her," 
 Crayshaw went on, shaking the ashes out of his pipe. 
 
 " Because I have been smitten so often, I suppose. 
 Well, every fellow's time comes some day." 
 
 Crayshaw smoked and looked silently at the stars 
 for a few minutes ; then he said :
 
 142 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 " You will find the difference now, Murray, between 
 caring really for a girl, and simply being gone on one." 
 
 " I have taken it harder, if that is what you mean," 
 Murray answered briefly. 
 
 " Not that exactly, "^Crayshaw hesitated " I meant 
 the real caring which makes you look upon a girl 
 more as a friend a sweet companion so as almost 
 to forget everything else. I don't call anything else 
 the real thing." 
 
 " I don't agree with you," said Murray, shortly. 
 
 Friends as they were, they had never talked in 
 this way before, but Murray had had some idea of 
 Crayshaw's opinions on this subject, had heard him 
 express disgust at some of the stories current after 
 mess, and had never known him speak slightingly of 
 any woman. 
 
 He knew the reason too knew that Crayshaw 
 when they first met had been engaged, and had even 
 seen a photograph of his fiancte. She had died a few 
 weeks before they were to have been married, and 
 Crayshaw had gone away while she was ill, and had 
 not returned to the regiment for a long time. And 
 when he did return he never spoke to any one of his 
 trouble ; not even Murray had heard him mention the 
 girl's name again, but he knew his friend looked upon 
 all women with reverence for her sake. 
 
 There was a short silence after Murray had spoken, 
 then Crayshaw said gravely : 
 
 " I am sorry you don't agree with me, old fellow. 
 I thought you might at last, and for your own sake 
 how do you expect such a love as you have for the 
 girl to last after marriage ? '
 
 TWO CONVERSATIONS. 143 
 
 " I don't care what happens no, I don't mean 
 that. I do love the girl with all my heart, but not as 
 you mean, Crayshaw." 
 
 "Then I don't believe I beg your pardon, it is 
 none of my business," Crayshaw interrupted himself, 
 " but I'm sorry for the girl, Murray. I remember how 
 I cared how I care for the girl I was engaged to." 
 Crayshaw's voice had sunk very low, and he puffed 
 silently away at his pipe for some minutes. " I don't 
 believe I have spoken of her since she died, before," 
 he said, " and I certainly did not think I should ever 
 come to a wedding of my own free choice ; nor should 
 I, except to yours." 
 
 Murray, manlike, found little to say in response. 
 " I'm glad you came, old fellow," he answered. 
 
 " I think before a fellow marries a girl, he ought to 
 care for her, as I cared for Alice," Crayshaw went on 
 reverently. " I have not been any better than other 
 fellows, but I have cared for her as something apart, 
 and looked up to her, and since she died " he stopped 
 for a moment, but when he went on, his voice was 
 quite steady " I have kept myself for her sake. It 
 has been till death, and after death for us." 
 
 Then there was a long silence. Crayshaw's pipe 
 had gone out, but he did not notice it, and Murray 
 was engrossed with his own thoughts. 
 
 Then Crayshaw got up and said " Good-night. You 
 have my best wishes for to-morrow, old fellow,"he added. 
 
 " Thank you," Murray said, as they shook hands. 
 " I care for the girl as I know how, Crayshaw. Every 
 fellow hasn't the other way in him." 
 
 But Crayshaw shook his head.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 TILL DEATH US DO PART. 
 
 FLOSS was up next morning before Sylvia was awake, 
 and over at the Elms to see that Bessy and Kitty had 
 their little blue dresses laid out in readiness for them, 
 and to persuade Dicky to promise to be a good boy, 
 and to stay very quiet after his velvet suit was put on. 
 
 Then she hastened back to Heath Hall in time for 
 a very rapid breakfast ; after which she hurried up to 
 Sylvia's room, to find that young lady very comfort- 
 ably established in her dressing-gown, with a most 
 substantial breakfast on the table before her. 
 
 " Well, Floss," she said gaily, " where have you 
 been ? I don't know how you managed to dress 
 without waking me." 
 
 Floss came over to her and kissed her. 
 
 " I have been home," she said, " to see about the 
 children. You have a lovely morning, Sylvia dear ; 
 it must be a good omen." 
 
 " Yes ; the carpet from the carnage to the church 
 won't be ruined, as it certainly would have been by 
 rain. Floss, would you mind running downstairs, 
 and seeing if you could fish me up a scrap more bacon
 
 TILL DEATH US DO PART. 145 
 
 from the breakfast-table ? It is not the proper thing 
 to be so hungry, is it ? " 
 
 " It is very sensible of you," returned Floss. 
 
 " Just look at my bouquet before you go. Isn't it 
 lovely ? I suppose yours is in your room. If you 
 see Arthur before I do, give him a kiss for me he 
 has shown his good taste." 
 
 " I don't suppose he had anything to do with the 
 choosing of them," returned Floss, practically, as she 
 carried off Sylvia's plate. 
 
 She met Murray in the hall, where that young 
 gentleman did not seem to have any particular 
 business. 
 
 " You most incorrect person," she said, laughing, 
 " what may you be doing here ? " 
 
 "Well, I wanted to know how Sylvia liked her 
 flowers, and I shouldn't mind seeing her," returned 
 Murray, nonchalantly. 
 
 Floss's response was forestalled by Sylvia's voice 
 from upstairs : 
 
 " They are lovely, Arthur thanks ever so much, 
 but I am afraid they won't let me see you." 
 
 " Really there is a disagreeable want of etiquette 
 about your proceedings, both of you ! " said Floss. 
 " Go back to the Elms, Mr. Murray ; you certainly 
 can't see Sylvia at present." 
 
 And she left him disconsolate. 
 
 Sylvia made a very hearty breakfast, and seemed 
 to have entirely regained her high spirits. 
 
 She amused herself by making up flowers for her 
 bridesmaids and ( a few other favoured individuals, 
 carrying on a lively conversation the whole time.
 
 146 THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA. 
 
 "There, that will do for Captain Crayshaw, and 
 here's a bunch with an extra bit of maidenhair for 
 Harry. I wish my Billy was to be here." 
 
 "Poor Billy is quite rent that you did -not get 
 married in the holidays," said Floss, who was on her 
 knees before one of Sylvia's trunks, putting a few 
 final touches to the packing. 
 
 " Not to speak of his being rent at my getting 
 married at all ! " returned Sylvia, laughing. " It is too 
 bad none of my special admirers are coming to see 
 the last of me. George, for instance George did 
 like me very much, Floss." 
 
 " I have no doubt he did and does," said Floss, 
 shortly. 
 
 "And young Greene poor Mr. Greene I think 
 Harry ought to have paid me those gloves we bet 
 about him long ago." 
 
 " Isn't he coming ? " 
 
 " No, he declined, poor fellow ; too harrowing to 
 his feelings, I suppose." 
 
 " Sylvia, I don't know if you are proud of his 
 caring for you, but you ought to be ashamed," said 
 Floss, hotly ; " can't you think of something else on 
 your wedding morning? " 
 
 " Can't you abstain from scolding me on my wedding 
 morning, Floss dear ? " said Sylvia, pleadingly ; " it 
 doesn't feel one bit as if I were to be married to-day. 
 I wonder what I shall feel like this time to-morrow ? " 
 
 " Very much like yourself, I expect," returned Floss. 
 " I believe you fancy the fact of being married will 
 change you all at once." 
 
 " I really believe I do ! Now, Floss dear, don't let
 
 TILL DEATH US DO PART. 147 
 
 me talk any more, but do you please dress quickly, 
 so as to be ready to help me." 
 
 And Floss obeyed. 
 
 Miss Dalrymple appeared very soon, fully arrayed, 
 and between her and Floss, and a couple of old 
 servants who were determined to assist, Sylvia was 
 very quickly dressed. Mrs. Craven fluttered around 
 on the verge of tears, and succeeded, poor old lady, 
 in being very much in every one's way. 
 
 Floss did not think Sylvia had ever looked prettier 
 than she did in her ivory-white dress, her face flushed 
 with excitement, her auburn hair gleaming under 
 her long veil in the October sun, which streamed in 
 through the window. 
 
 " How do I look ? " she said anxiously ; " I am not 
 quite sure that the body exactly fits at the neck. 
 Dear me ! how odd it feels to have a train, " and 
 Sylvia pushed hers out of her way with a by no 
 means graceful kick. 
 
 " My dear Sylvia, you must not do that ! " exclaimed 
 Floss in alarm, "you will catch your foot in the 
 lace." 
 
 " Very well ; I will be as dignified as I know how. 
 I wonder what George would think of me to-day ; he 
 always liked me best in white. Yes, I know what 
 that look means, Floss that I ought to be considering 
 what Arthur will think of me, instead ! Nell, stoop 
 for a minute, your hat is not straight. How sweet you 
 look, Aunt. I am afraid if Arthur hopes I may be 
 like you when I grow old, he will be disappointed." 
 
 Sylvia rattled on, but there was a good deal of 
 nervousness in it all, and she could not keep still.
 
 148 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 Yet, when they came to the church, Murray was far 
 the most uncomfortable of the two, to all appearance. 
 
 By Sylvia's special entreaty, both he and Captain 
 Crayshaw were in uniform, and very well did Murray 
 look, with his dark face, and tall erect figure in his 
 close-fitting uniform, his kilt and bare brown knees. 
 
 It was a very pretty wedding. 
 
 Sylvia's white dress contrasted well with her lover's 
 uniform, and behind, between them and the well-filled 
 church, was Captain Crayshaw, also in uniform, with 
 the bridesmaids, Floss, Miss Dalrymple, and the two 
 little Egertons, in their pale-blue dresses. 
 
 The Black Watch colours had been unanimously 
 declared unfitted for trimming of any kind, so the 
 bridesmaids only wore each a tiny bow of the red, 
 green and blue. 
 
 There was not a single hitch in the ceremony. 
 Murray was white, but composed, and Sylvia, to all 
 appearance entirely self-possessed. 
 
 Captain Crayshaw was as white as Murray, but there 
 was nobody to notice such a secondary performer in 
 the day's proceedings. 
 
 And when they went into the vestry, he was among 
 the first to congratulate Sylvia. 
 
 Harry, who had gone in after the rest on what 
 excuse was best known to himself followed up his 
 congratulations by giving the bride a hearty kiss, con- 
 siderably to the astonishment both of that young lady 
 herself and of Murray. 
 
 But it was later on that Sylvia was in her element, 
 showing people round her presents, spread out in the 
 drawing-room, seeing that every one was attended to,
 
 TILL DEA TH US DO PART. 149 
 
 and immensely enjoying her central position. Murray 
 by no means equally appreciated his. 
 
 He did his duty nobly, and spoke to everybody he 
 was requested to attend to, but it was quite perceptible 
 that he wished it all over. 
 
 As for Sylvia, after bestowing a little of her society 
 on most of the groups, she ended by joining an 
 extremely merry one, with the bridesmaids and best 
 man as its centre. 
 
 She carried Floss off upstairs to help her to change 
 her dress presently, and a few favoured ones soon 
 strayed after them, whereupon Murray considered he 
 had a right to make his own escape good. 
 
 Then came the last scene of all, when the whole 
 party of guests assembled round the hall door, and 
 Murray and Sylvia drove off amid showers of rice and 
 old shoes. 
 
 And for the first time that day, the two were alone 
 together. 
 
 " Oh, Arthur ! " said Sylvia, drawing a long breath 
 and nestling close to him. 
 
 " Well, little one ; are you glad to be married to 
 me ? " said he tenderly. 
 
 " I don't think I believe it," she said" to think that 
 I am going away, all alone with you, and no chaperon 
 wanted ! Why ! " she laughed delightedly, " I am a 
 chaperon myself! Do you think they will call me 
 Mrs. Murray at the hotel to-night ? " 
 
 " I should think it extremely probable," returned 
 Arthur ; " what else conld they call you ? " 
 
 He would have liked her to be a little more serious, 
 though he laughed too.
 
 i5o THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 " There is * S. M.' on all my boxes, too. I sha'n't 
 know myself as ' Mrs. Murray ' it's perfectly ridicu- 
 lous, Arthur." 
 
 " I don't think it is at all ridiculous, my darling," 
 he answered gravely. " Tell me you are glad to be my 
 wife my wife : that means a good deal, darling, and 
 is quite serious." 
 
 " I am very glad to be your wife ; I have never been 
 so happy in all my life," she said softly.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE END OF THE HONEYMOON. 
 
 A HONEYMOON can be of no interest to any one but 
 the two concerned therein. 
 
 Murray and Sylvia were probably quite as foolish as 
 hundreds of other people have been before them, and 
 just as persuaded that no one could take them for 
 anything but an old married couple, while every word 
 and look betrayed the contrary. 
 
 They travelled about in France, which was all new 
 to Sylvia, and ended by a fortnight in Paris, which 
 she enjoyed perhaps more than Murray. He knew 
 Paris well, and would have preferred somewhere 
 where he could have had Sylvia more entirely to 
 himself. 
 
 And Sylvia's letters to Floss and to her own people 
 were jubilant. 
 
 She did not declare herself the happiest girl in the 
 world, nor Arthur the most delightful of men that 
 was not Sylvia's way ; but she wrote animated 
 accounts of all their doings, in which, of course, his 
 name figured largely, and her letters generally ended 
 with a casual remark about him, such as " Arthur 
 and I still continue to get on really wonderfully," or
 
 152 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 " I haven't changed my opinion about Arthur as yet," 
 and a very flourishing " Sylvia Murray " at the 
 end. 
 
 And at Christmas the two brought presents from 
 Paris to so many people, that they were requested to 
 say if they intended beginning married life by dissi- 
 pating their income. 
 
 They spent Christmas week at Delagherty, and 
 every one rejoiced to see Sylvia so radiant, and both 
 of them so evidently delighted with each other. 
 
 Sylvia enjoyed their stay at Heath Hall very much. 
 She revelled in being made a fuss over, and was 
 delighted to go out to dinner-parties given in her 
 honour, and though Murray grumbled, neither did he 
 dislike it. But he had to be back in Dublin on New 
 Year's day, so these delights could not last long. 
 
 They left Delagherty the day before, and reached 
 Dublin in the evening, so New Year's Eve found them 
 established for the first time in their house, for at any 
 rate the immediate future. 
 
 It was a pleasant little house in Upper Pembroke 
 Street, within fairly convenient reach of the Royal 
 Barracks, and Sylvia was delighted with it. It was 
 not very large, but, as they said, they did not want a 
 large house it would not have been half so cosy. 
 
 Sylvia spent all her time before dinner exploring 
 each room very thoroughly, and making the acquaint- 
 ance of the cook, the housemaid, and Murray's 
 regimental servant all that they could have room for 
 or be bothered with, as Sylvia said when the question 
 of servants was mooted. She did not want a maid 
 for herself, she said with great decision ; she had
 
 THE END OF THE HONEYMOON. 153 
 
 never been used to one, and would not know what to 
 do with her. 
 
 She displayed so much energy before dinner, that 
 she was content to take things more quietly afterwards. 
 
 She made Murray pull his chair round to the fire, 
 drew the wine over to his side of the table, fetched 
 him his cigarette case, and then, drawing a stool to 
 his feet, seated herself on it, leant her head against 
 his knee, and slid her hand into his with a sigh of 
 content. 
 
 Murray had watched these arrangements with a 
 loving smile, and stroked her fair hair very fondly, 
 when she seated herself at his feet. 
 
 "You don't think there is any chance of your 
 servant coming in, Arthur ? " she said. "I should never 
 be able to sustain the dignified position of mistress, 
 if I was once discovered like this." 
 
 " I hope he knows better," said Murray, sedately. 
 
 " What do you think of the cook, Arthur ? " began 
 Sylvia ; " her name is not pretty it is Jane ; but she 
 is not bad-looking as cooks go, is she ? " 
 
 " I am afraid I haven't seen her," returned Murray, 
 twisting the wedding-ring on Sylvia's finger round 
 and round. 
 
 " Now, really, Arthur, that is culpably negligent on 
 your part. You ought to take more interest in your 
 own house and your own cook." 
 
 " I take most interest in my own wife," was all the 
 reply Sylvia's practical observations elicited ; and, as 
 to kiss her in her present position would have required 
 a gymnastic effort on his part, he contented himself 
 with raising her hand to his lips.
 
 154 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 " Now, Arthur, to think we have been more than six 
 weeks married, and you haven't got over foolishness 
 yet ! I am going to have a very busy day to-morrow. 
 I am going to arrange the house exactly as I like." 
 
 " And is my taste not to be considered at all ? " 
 
 " Of course you like what I like, silly boy. It is a 
 great comfort you will be away so much to-morrow, 
 as you would be very much in the way. I am going 
 out marketing too, and all sorts of things. You don't 
 suppose any one will call to-morrow afternoon, do 
 you ? " 
 
 " Well, no, little one, that would be rather quick 
 work, besides its being New Year's Day. You won't 
 be lonely, darling, I hope ? I shall be very busy all 
 day, I am afraid." 
 
 " Lonely ! no, / shall be far too busy ; I have 
 thousands of things to do ! " 
 
 " Going to begin the new year well, darling ? " he 
 said tenderly ; " we must both make a good start, 
 mustn't we ? It ought to be a very happy new year 
 for us." 
 
 " And it will," said Sylvia, gaily ; " I have never 
 been unhappy yet. Shall I write to George Egerton, 
 and ask him to tea or dinner here some day? " 
 
 " Let it be tea, then. Don't let us have our 
 evenings broken yet. Don't you think you may as 
 well wait till he calls ? Where did you say he was 
 Beggars' Bush Barracks ? " 
 
 "Yes; it's a good way from here. However, just 
 as you like." 
 
 " What a submissive wife I have got ! Invite any- 
 one you like, dear the whole regiment if it pleases
 
 THE END OF THE HONEYMOON. 155 
 
 you only don't let them interfere with more of our 
 time together than can be helped." 
 
 "As if I did not want our time together as much 
 as you ! Now, Arthur, if you have finished your 
 cigarette, we might go to our drawing-room." 
 
 " And we'll watch the new year in what do you 
 say, my darling ? and make all kinds of resolutions 
 as to how it is to be spent," said Murray, with grave 
 tenderness. " It shall really be a happy new year."
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 HOME AGAIN. 
 
 " HULLO, Murray ! glad to see you." 
 
 " Welcome back, old fellow ! " 
 
 " How are you, Murray ? had a pleasant time ? " 
 
 Murray found himself meeting and greeting some 
 one fresh at every turn. It was a mixture of arrivals 
 and departures : the return of those officers who had 
 been on first leave, and the departure of those who 
 were going on second. 
 
 Everybody was glad to see him, and he found it 
 very pleasant, after all, to be back among his old 
 friends. 
 
 Crayshaw, his special chum, did not return till the 
 afternoon. 
 
 "Back to the old grind again, Murray," he said 
 cheerfully. "I suppose I needn't ask if you've been 
 enjoying yourself? " 
 
 " I only hope you have, half as much, old fellow," 
 returned Murray. "Where have you been half 
 over the world I suppose ? " 
 
 " I've been to Russia this time." 
 
 " Just like you to choose the winter for Russia," 
 said Murray. 
 
 156
 
 HOME AGAIN. 157 
 
 " I don't see what is the good of going to a place 
 except when you can see its characteristics best. How 
 is Mrs. Murray ? " 
 
 " Looking ever so much the better for our trip. 
 You must come and see her soon, Crayshaw." 
 
 " I shall be only too happy. Back again, Were 
 glad to see you," and the conversation became 
 general. 
 
 Murray stuck to his intention of going home for 
 dinner, in spite of the disgust of his brother officers, 
 and their complaints that mess seemed going to the 
 dogs. 
 
 He was not going to leave Sylvia by herself that 
 first evening. He had never been so long away from 
 her since their marriage, and he was amused to find 
 how impatient he was to see her again. 
 
 Yes, it was good to be married, Murray thought, 
 when he found the door opened before he had time to 
 touch the latch-key, and Sylvia radiantly glad to see 
 him. 
 
 " Come upstairs, Arthur," she said ; " there is time 
 before we need dress for dinner, and I have heaps of 
 news." 
 
 And Arthur very willingly allowed himself to be 
 escorted to the drawing-room, where Sylvia had not 
 forgotten to have a bright fire to greet him. 
 
 " It does seem so long since this morning," she 
 said, " in the way of missing you, but I have been 
 very happy. Don't you want to hear all that I have 
 been doing ? " 
 
 " Of course I do ; every single thing." 
 
 And Sylvia entered into a detailed description of
 
 158 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 the day's proceedings. She had been very busy so 
 busy, in fact, that she had not had time to unpack ; 
 she had ordered the dinner, arranged and rearranged 
 the drawing-room several times, and in fact she did 
 not quite know how the time had gone. 
 
 " And then, you see," she added, " I had to go up 
 and change my dress and make myself as nice as I 
 could for you, dear. You see, you had never been so 
 long away from me before, and I did not want you to 
 think I had gone off in my appearance ! " 
 
 Murray's answer to this speech can be imagined.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 ALMOST A TIFF. 
 
 MURRAY had to leave Sylvia next day also. 
 
 The men were to have a great dinner, and each 
 officer was expected to be present to drink the health 
 of his company. Sylvia, however, was full of busi- 
 ness as usual, and did not at all object to be left alone. 
 
 She wrote home till lunch, after which she deter- 
 mined to devote herself to unpacking. 
 
 Murray had been absolutely refused permission to 
 have his clothes unpacked as usual by Lewis, his 
 servant Sylvia, with one of her sweetest smiles, had 
 assured him that now she was his wife that was her 
 business, or at any rate her pleasure ; and the senti- 
 ment was undeniably excellent. 
 
 She began operations by opening all Murray's 
 drawers, and then taking his clothes out of his 
 portmanteau and laying them on the bed. Sylvia 
 was resolved to be systematic. 
 
 Consequently she applied herself to the minute 
 examination of his clothes in view of something to 
 mend, and having, to her great gratification, dis- 
 covered two pair of socks in need of the attention, 
 decided she must first of all devote herself to them.
 
 160 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 It was getting dark, so she took them with her to 
 the drawing-room, where the gas had already been 
 lighted, and established herself very comfortably by 
 the fire. 
 
 But mending stockings in solitude is dull work, and 
 presently Sylvia's eyes fell on Murray's desk, which 
 had been brought up from his room in barracks. It 
 looked interesting, decidedly, and the possession of 
 his keys was tempting. So Sylvia abandoned the 
 socks, and establishing herself comfortably, if with 
 some want of dignity, full length on the hearthrug, 
 with the desk in front of her, prepared to amuse 
 herself with its contents. 
 
 It was not as interesting as she expected at first 
 a number of mess bills, some from tailors and boot- 
 makers, a half-drawn ordnance map, and a few 
 letters from his brother officers, all tossed in any- 
 how. 
 
 " How like Arthur ! " Sylvia thought, " I must really 
 tidy this for him." 
 
 And as the preliminary step towards doing so, she 
 upset everything on to the hearthrug. 
 
 Then, going on the same system as upstairs, she 
 proceeded to take out a drawer which filled one side 
 of the desk. 
 
 This looked more interesting. 
 
 There were a good many letters in this, and even 
 an attempt at careful arrangement ; there were a few 
 bits of ribbon, a glove, and some withered flowers. 
 " Dear me ! " said Sylvia. 
 
 She began to think that, on the whole, she had 
 perhaps better not explore any further till Arthur
 
 ALMOST A TIFF. 161 
 
 came home, and content herself with putting the 
 rest of his desk in order. 
 
 But curiosity was too much for her. 
 
 She was so deep in the first letter she happened to 
 pick up, that the opening of the door made her start. 
 
 " Captain Crayshaw." 
 
 Sylvia sprang to her feet, letting half a dozen 
 letters slide off her knee and lose themselves among 
 a confusion of bills and regimental papers. 
 
 " How do you do, Captain Crayshaw ? " she said, in 
 her sweetest tones ; " I am so glad it is you and not 
 a stranger, for everything is in such a mess. You 
 will excuse me when I tell you that I have been 
 engrossed with some ancient love-letters of Arthur's." 
 
 Captain Crayshaw laughed. 
 
 " Murray is a bold man, or he must have a very 
 clear conscience," he said. 
 
 " Oh, I have no permission for my proceedings in 
 fact, I don't at all know if Arthur will be pleased," 
 said Sylvia, coolly. 
 
 " I hope I am not interrupting you ? " said Captain 
 Crayshaw, refraining from expressing his doubts as to 
 Arthur's pleasure. 
 
 " Not a bit ; I am so glad to have some one to talk 
 to. Will you ring, Captain Crayshaw, and we will 
 have some tea and be very comfortable." 
 
 " I am afraid you must be a little lonely while 
 Murray has to be away so much," Captain Crayshaw 
 said, as he obeyed. 
 
 " Oh no, not very. I shall be a little lonely, I 
 expect, the days he goes on guard. You will come 
 and see me sometimes then, won't you ? " 
 
 12
 
 162 THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA. 
 
 " I shall be very glad. Murray's days for guards 
 will soon be over, however, Mrs. Murray. He is the 
 next to get his company." 
 
 " That will be splendid ! " said Sylvia. " Here 
 comes tea, Captain Crayshaw. May I give you 
 some ? I wonder is it worth while keeping it hot for 
 Arthur ? Did you happen to see him ? " 
 
 " The last I saw of him he was being carried round 
 the barrack square in triumph, preceded by the pipers, 
 and I had only just finished enjoying a similar honour. 
 The men are spending the afternoon chairing the 
 officers of their respective companies, being very 
 jubilant after their dinner." 
 
 " A doubtful pleasure, I should think," said Sylvia. 
 " Now, Captain Crayshaw, while you are drinking 
 your tea, tell me all you have been doing since I saw 
 you last." 
 
 " I think your travels were probably the most 
 interesting," he said. " However, we can exchange 
 ideas." 
 
 Captain Crayshaw liked Sylvia. She was amus- 
 ingly friendly considering their very brief acquaintance, 
 but he liked her all the better for it, and besides, he 
 was anxious to be on the best of terms with Murray's 
 wife. 
 
 He succeeded in making himself very agreeable 
 to her, and spending a very pleasant hour in her 
 company, and when he finally rose to go, Sylvia was 
 distinctly sorry. 
 
 " You will soon come to see me again, won't you ? " 
 she said sweetly. 
 
 " Then I shall not find myself disliked and unwel-
 
 ALMOST A TIFF. 163 
 
 come, as husbands' friends are always supposed to 
 be?" said Captain Crayshaw. 
 
 "Not if you will be my friend too," said Sylvia, 
 graciously. 
 
 She returned to the perusal of Murray's letters as 
 soon as Crayshaw had left, and they amused her to 
 the extent of making her forget to attend to the fire, 
 and awake with a start to the fact that it was almost 
 out, when she heard her husband's latch-key. 
 
 Murray was not quite pleased. In the first place, 
 he was very cold, and the fire was nearly out ; in the 
 second, Sylvia had not come to the door to meet 
 him ; and finally, he did not like to see the contents 
 of his desk in wild confusion on the hearthrug. 
 
 " My dear Sylvia, you know you are perfectly 
 welcome to read any of my letters," he said, redden- 
 ing a little all the same ; " but you might have 
 waited till I was here, and not made such a con- 
 fusion." 
 
 " I assure you, Arthur, the confusion was awful to 
 begin with. I am going to put it tidy for you," said 
 Sylvia, tranquilly. 
 
 " You know nothing about it, my dear girl. It may 
 have looked untidy, but I knew where to get every- 
 thing I wanted," said he, a little sharply. 
 
 " I must say you are a very cool person, Arthur," 
 said Sylvia, serenely. " Instead of being a little 
 ashamed of these letters and tender reminiscences 
 some of them not so very long ago either you scold 
 me, and on our second day at home too ! " 
 
 Arthur was penitent at once. 
 
 He was again a little irritated by the condition in
 
 164 THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA. 
 
 which he found his dressing-room clothes in every 
 direction. 
 
 Sylvia said: "Oh, Arthur, I am very sorry! Captain 
 Crayshaw called, and I forgot all about those things. 
 I intended to have everything so nice for you." And 
 then she troubled her head no more about the matter. 
 Neither did she notice the silence in which he shaved, 
 or that he did not come to her to have his tie tied, as 
 usual. 
 
 He had quite regained his good-temper by the time 
 he was dressed, and apologised to Sylvia for having 
 been cross at which she stared, blissfully unaware of 
 his feelings.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 GEORGE EGERTON. 
 
 " OH, George, I am so glad to see you ! I caught 
 sight of you from the window, and ran down to meet 
 you." 
 
 Sylvia, her fair little face flushed with delight, 
 shook George's hand warmly, and looked half ready 
 to embrace him in her eagerness. 
 
 He took matters much more calmly. He was a 
 tall, handsome, languid youth, got up almost to 
 foppishness, with a flower in his buttonhole George 
 Egerton might be known anywhere by that ; winter 
 or summer, no one ever saw him without a flower in 
 his buttonhole a general air of languor, and an 
 eyeglass. 
 
 George never excited himself about anything. He 
 let Sylvia give him a warm welcome, and ended by 
 languidly putting up his eyeglass to survey her. He 
 was not a youth of many words, perhaps because he 
 thought his words too valuable to be wasted. 
 
 " Oh, George, why didn't you come to see me 
 before ? " went on Sylvia, impetuously, and not at all 
 chilled by his manner, to which she was accustomed. 
 " Why did you wait till I wrote ? Come upstairs ; 
 
 165
 
 166 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 I have a lot to say to you, but I have some visitors, 
 and we must wait till they go. I am afraid I forgot 
 all about them." 
 
 Captain and Mrs. Atterly upstairs had certainly 
 been a little astonished by their hostess's abrupt 
 departure, and they accepted her apologies with a 
 good deal of concealed amusement. 
 
 As for Sylvia, she did not take the slightest trouble 
 to conceal her delight at seeing George Egerton, 
 which, contrasted with the utter tranquillity of the 
 young man himself, amused her visitors very much. 
 However, they discreetly did not stay long, neither 
 did their hostess make any violent effort to detain 
 them. 
 
 " Now, George," she said when they were gone, 
 " come and sit over the fire and talk to me. It is 
 jolly to see you." 
 
 George was accustomed to be worshipped, and liked 
 it. The clever one of the family, he had altvays come 
 in for plenty of admiration. Perhaps had Sylvia not 
 been brought up with the rest to think there was 
 nobody like George, she might have laughed at, 
 instead of admiring him. 
 
 But there hung over him still the glamour of the 
 days in which he being a young man, and she only a 
 little girl, he had condescended to pay her some lazy 
 attentions or rather to let her attend to him had 
 read her his verses and expounded his ideas, which 
 were quite beyond her comprehension. 
 
 George quite agreed with Sylvia in thinking there 
 was nobody like him. Even his family had been 
 much shaken in their ideas on that subject lately,
 
 GEORGE EGERTON. 167 
 
 and his brother officers were far from being sympa- 
 thetic souls, so it was pleasant for him to have Sylvia, 
 who believed in him utterly, and to whom he wrote 
 little songs, setting them to music of his own, and 
 dedicating them to her. 
 
 He had even gone so far as to imagine himself in 
 love with her last time he had been at home, and 
 perhaps he did care for her as much as he was capable 
 of caring for any one but himself. At any rate, to 
 fancy himself in love with her now gave a little 
 piquancy to their intercourse ; so George sighed, and 
 looked at her admiringly. 
 
 "You are not at all changed, Sylvia," he said 
 softly, tossing back his hair from his forehead. This 
 was a favourite trick of his, and, he flattered himself, 
 looked effective. 
 
 Before he had entered the army he had worn his 
 hair a little long, and it was one of his grievances 
 that he could not continue to do so. In defiance of 
 all regulations, however, he persisted in shaving his 
 
 moustache. He knew he was handsome, and considered 
 
 its growth would greatly detract from the interest of 
 
 his appearance. 
 
 " This room is a pretty shape, Sylvia," was his 
 
 next remark, when he had transferred his attention 
 
 from Sylvia to her surroundings ; " but there is a 
 
 great deal too much colour in it." 
 
 " Oh, I must take you all over the house," said 
 
 Sylvia, eagerly. 
 
 " You had better not ; our tastes were never quite 
 
 the same," said George, sadly, "and you know I always 
 
 say what I think."
 
 168 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 "You know I always do what you advise," said 
 Sylvia, reproachfully. " Tell me, George, have you 
 been writing anything lately ? " 
 
 " Not much while I was on leave, and now I have 
 come back it is hard to find time. They are a very 
 rough lot of fellows in the regiment, Sylvia, and no 
 sooner do I sit down in my room and think I may be 
 quiet, than there is some row next door, or they 
 bear-fight along the passages. My own room isn't 
 free either. Even at night I have no peace to 
 write." 
 
 " You must come and write here," said Sylvia, 
 eagerly. 
 
 " You are very kind. I have brought one or two 
 little things to read to you, Sylvia, if," in a melan- 
 choly tone, " you care to hear them." 
 
 " Of course I care to hear them ! You don't 
 imagine I have changed to you, George ? " said 
 Sylvia, anxiously. 
 
 " But we may be interrupted. Your husband ? " 
 
 "He is on guard, which was the reason I particularly 
 wanted you to come to-day, as I was awfully lonely 
 last time." 
 
 " Then we will have some time to ourselves." And 
 George extracted a long and much-written-over sheet 
 of paper from his pocket. " I will read some to you, 
 and then I will sing you the last words I set to 
 music." 
 
 " Oh, thank you ! " said Sylvia, earnestly. 
 
 If she suppressed a little feeling of weariness, it was 
 quite unacknowledged. Sylvia would never admit to 
 herself that she occasionally did not quite understand
 
 GEORGE EGERTON. 169 
 
 George's poetry, and had heard something very like 
 his music before. 
 
 She sat and listened with all her attention, and 
 warm as were her praises, they were by no means too 
 warm for George, whose power of receiving flattery 
 was unlimited, and Sylvia really meant all she said.
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 THE FIRST QUARREL. 
 
 " OH, Arthur, I am so sorry ! I was out shopping, 
 and I met George, and he asked me to go up to the 
 Phoenix Park with him to see a golf match, and then 
 we walked about, and he read some of his poetry to 
 me, and I quite forgot the time." 
 
 Sylvia ran into the drawing-room, after a very 
 hurried toilet, and went up to kiss Murray, who was 
 standing with his back to the fire, looking rather 
 gloomy. 
 
 " It was a nice house to come back to," he said, 
 rather sullenly ; " it would have been much better if 
 I had stayed for mess, as they wanted me to. Surely 
 the servants have no business to be all out at once, 
 Sylvia. There was no fire, the gas wasn't lighted, 
 and this room doesn't look as if it had been dusted 
 for a month." 
 
 " I suppose they dust it every morning. I will 
 speak about it, if I remember." 
 
 " And I wish you would speak to some one about 
 my shirts. I positively can't find one to put on." 
 
 " Oh, Arthur ! I am afraid that is my fault," ex- 
 claimed Sylvia. " I have been bringing them into my 
 
 170
 
 THE FIRST QUARREL. 171 
 
 room, and laying them aside to sew buttons on, and 
 I have always forgotten to get buttons." 
 
 " I wish you would either not forget so much, or 
 leave all that kind of thing to some one else," he said, 
 with some irritation. 
 
 " I am so sorry, dear," caressingly. " If I had not 
 met George, I dare say I should have remembered to 
 get the buttons." 
 
 " I really don't see why you need go roaming over 
 the country with Egerton, either." 
 
 " Oh, poor George ! " said Sylvia, reproachfully, 
 " he has had such hard times of it. Just think, Arthur, 
 there are only five subalterns in his regiment now ; all 
 the others are away, and he has duty three times a 
 week, and guard every fifth day ! And he hates it 
 so." 
 
 " You seem to have forgotten that / was on duty 
 three times last week," said Murray. 
 
 " Ah ! but you and George are quite different. 
 There is the gong, and perhaps your dinner will put 
 you into a better temper, dear." 
 
 But the dinner had suffered from waiting, and 
 Murray, who, like most men, liked his dinner, sur- 
 veyed one dish after another with disgust, though he 
 said nothing. 
 
 He made an effort to regain his good-humour when 
 dessert came, and he and Sylvia were left alone. 
 
 " That is a new dress, isn't' it, dear ? " he said cheer- 
 fully, and Sylvia was willing enough to accept his 
 overtures. 
 
 " Yes ; I hope you like it," she said. 
 
 " Scarcely as well as the one you used to wear every
 
 172 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 evening," he said. " Why haven't you been wearing 
 it lately ? " 
 
 " Oh, I had it on the last time George was here, 
 and he said it did not suit me," returned Sylvia, 
 tranquilly. 
 
 It must be confessed that Murray gave vent to a 
 very hearty " Confound George ! " 
 
 Sylvia raised her eyebrows. 
 
 " What is the matter now ? " she said resignedly. 
 
 " Do you mean to say you care more for George 
 Egerton's opinion than for mine ? " said Murray. 
 
 " My dear Arthur, don't be angry. I certainly 
 think George knows more about dress than you 
 do." 
 
 " And do you prefer pleasing him ? " 
 
 " If you think it of so much importance, of course 
 I will wear the dress when we are alone, dear," said 
 Sylvia, soothingly. " It is your dinner which has 
 made you so cross. I am sorry it was cold." 
 
 " That's thanks to George Egerton, too," said 
 Murray, angrily. 
 
 " It wasn't as bad as the dinner poor George had 
 on Sunday at the Mountjoy Prison guard," said 
 Sylvia, with a laudable intention of changing the 
 conversation. " Nothing hot, poor fellow ; lukewarm 
 haggis greasy cutlets " 
 
 " Can't you talk of anything but George Egerton ? 
 I have not the slightest desire to hear what he had 
 for dinner, confound him ! " 
 
 And Murray actually marched out of the room, 
 leaving Sylvia very much astonished and shocked. 
 
 She went upstairs presently to the drawing-room,
 
 THE FIRST QUARREL. 173 
 
 and found him fidgeting uncomfortably about the 
 room. 
 
 " I told Lewis to bring coffee up here," she said 
 with dignity, and then she took up a book. 
 
 It was usually the happiest time of the day for 
 them, when they sat over the fire, Murray on a stool 
 at Sylvia's feet, and discussed the doings of the day ; 
 but now he, too, took up a paper, and there was 
 silence. 
 
 But he could not read. He fidgeted, and then got 
 up and began to walk about the room, glancing at 
 Sylvia, who read on and never looked up. 
 
 And finally Murray gave in. He came to Sylvia 
 and bent over her. 
 
 " I am awfully sorry, darling", he said, and she 
 looked up and smiled to him. She was very glad he 
 had been the one to apologise. " You will forgive 
 me for being so cross, won't you, my sweetheart ? " 
 he said, kneeling beside her, his arm round her. 
 
 " Of course I will forgive you, dear. We will put 
 it all down to the dinner," she said amiably. 
 
 " And you won't put George Egerton before me, will 
 you, my darling ? " he said tenderly. 
 
 " As if I ever did, you silly boy ! " said Sylvia, 
 ruffling his dark hair with her fingers. 
 
 And then he had to scramble to his feet, with most 
 undignified haste and suspiciously untidy hair, on the 
 entrance of Lewis with the coffee.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 A STORM. 
 
 " THIS is a nice time to come in, Arthur." 
 
 For once in her life, Sylvia's usual good-temper 
 seemed to have deserted her, and she did not even 
 take the trouble of looking round to greet her hus- 
 band. 
 
 " I am awfully sorry, darling," said Murray, care- 
 lessly. 
 
 " I suppose you have had your dinner ? " Sylvia 
 went on coldly. " I gave up waiting for you." 
 
 "Yes, I dined at the Sheridan with Were. Don't 
 be vexed, my pet ; I fully intended being back in 
 good time." 
 
 " Did you remember you had promised to take me 
 to the theatre to-night ? " said Sylvia. 
 
 " Yes ; and I intended to be back in time, really, 
 dear. Listen to me, and I will tell you all about it." 
 Murray knelt down on the rug, in his favourite posi- 
 tion beside Sylvia, and took her unresponsive hand. 
 " I was awfully busy all the morning. There's a 
 draft of my company going to Malta, and I had to 
 sign a lot of papers, and so on, and then I went into 
 town and got a few ounces of tobacco for each man ; 
 
 174
 
 A STORM. 175 
 
 and then I met Were, and he asked me would I 
 drive down to Dollymount with him to have a try for 
 some shooting ; and then, when I found how late we 
 were, I thought I'd better dine at the Sheridan, and 
 then I just had a game of billiards afterwards, and 
 wouldn't wait for a second really I wouldn't." 
 
 Murray was in very good spirits, and was not at all 
 sufficiently penitent to please Sylvia. 
 
 " And you did not think of me, getting ready to go 
 to the theatre, and waiting and waiting? " she said. 
 
 " We'll go another night, darling. I'm very sorry," 
 said Murray. , 
 
 But Sylvia was very much displeased. She had 
 wanted so much to go to the theatre that night. She 
 had hurried in from a visit to the Atterlys, dressed, 
 had dinner early on purpose, and really it was too 
 provoking. She was determined she would not let 
 Murray think he could treat her so cavalierly with 
 impunity. 
 
 Sylvia understood her husband's character just 
 about as well as she had done the first day they 
 met. It never occurred to her that Murray might get 
 tired of rushing home on the chance for it was not 
 much more than a chance of finding her the moment 
 his business was over. 
 
 Her society had been quite sufficient for him during 
 their honeymoon, and Sylvia did not see why it should 
 not be always so. 
 
 It was hard on Murray harder even than it would 
 have been on most men to have to account and 
 apologise for every moment he lingered away from her. 
 It was a sacrifice to him, and a totally unappreciated
 
 176 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 one, to entirely give up men's society as he had 
 done. He was anxious very anxious that his wife 
 should not feel herself lonely, but still he would 
 sometimes have liked to go about with his brother 
 officers. 
 
 If he could have persuaded Sylvia to go to the golf- 
 ing ground with him, or down to Kingstown for a sail, 
 he would not have minded it so much. But generally 
 she had something else to do she wanted to go 
 shopping, or somebody was coming to call, and she 
 could not go out. 
 
 Murray was the very last man to whom a continuance 
 of this kind of life was possible, and if Sylvia had been 
 wise, she would have been glad that his energy had 
 broken out in no worse way than going to shoot at 
 Dollymount. As it was, however, she sagely made up 
 her mind to let Murray see she did not intend to stand 
 such treatment. So next day, when he penitently 
 promised to be home for lunch and take her wherever 
 she liked afterwards, Sylvia purposely delayed, and 
 serenely appeared about four o'clock. 
 
 Murray came down to the hall to meet her, and 
 greeted her quite good-humouredly. 
 
 " You are just as bad to-day as I was yesterday," 
 he said, laughing. " Madam, I await your apologies." 
 
 But Sylvia felt her lesson would be very wanting 
 in effect if she did not explain its meaning. 
 
 "You can understand what it is like to be kept 
 waiting now," she said. 
 
 " I believe I have experienced the sensation before," 
 returned Murray lightly. 
 
 " I did not think there was much need for me to
 
 A STORM. 177 
 
 hurry for you, as you did not hurry for me," she 
 said. 
 
 " Sylvia ! do you mean to say you kept me waiting 
 on purpose ? " Murray started, and drew a little away 
 from her as he spoke. 
 
 " Yes, I did," said Sylvia, placidly. 
 
 Murray was angry, decidedly angry. " I never 
 thought you would bear malice ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 " I only wanted to let you see I would not stand 
 being treated in that way," said Sylvia, amiably. 
 " Come upstairs, Arthur, and don't look at me like 
 that." 
 
 But instead, Murray took up his hat, and turned 
 away. " Don't expect me back for dinner,'' he said, 
 and went out of the house, banging the door after 
 him. 
 
 Sylvia stood where he had left her, in great surprise, 
 and then went upstairs, shrugging her shoulders, with 
 a condescending pity for Murray's display of temper, 
 and a complacent contrasting of it with her own 
 amiability.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 THE WA Y MURRA Y SPENT HIS EVENING. 
 
 MURRAY was sorry for his anger before he reached 
 the end of the street, and half disposed to turn back 
 at once, but he finally made up his mind to go on to 
 the Sheridan, and have a game or two of billiards 
 first 
 
 He almost intended to go home for dinner in spite 
 of what he had said, but the acclamation with which 
 the mere idea of his dining at mess was received by a 
 few men from his regiment he happened to come 
 across, made him change his mind. 
 
 " There are so few at mess now," said one ; " nearly 
 every one is dining out, or married, or on leave, 
 besides poor Wilson down with typhoid." 
 
 " It will be better to-night, as it's guest night," said 
 another, " but yesterday, actually Crayshaw and I had 
 the mess to ourselves ! I never dined like that before 
 since I joined." 
 
 " Yes Murray, you must come," some one else added, 
 and Murray yielded. 
 
 It was very pleasant to be so warmly welcomed at 
 
 mess, too ; everybody called out a greeting, and they 
 
 178
 
 THE IV A Y MURRA Y SPENT HIS EVENING. 179 
 
 all drank his health till Murray began to be a little 
 excited. 
 
 There were only three guests a barrister, and a 
 couple of men from another regiment, who were no 
 restraint on their conviviality. 
 
 They played whist and poker at first, then they 
 went in for a few rounds with the gloves, and finally, 
 with Murray in the thick of it, they hunted out one of 
 the newly joined, who had shirked the festivities on 
 the inadmissable excuse of a headache. 
 
 Murray felt it very like old times to find himself 
 helping the others to make hay in poor Dawson's 
 room, much, no doubt, to the benefit of his headache ; 
 and by the time this entertainment had been suc- 
 ceeded by a cock-fight (minus cocks, be it understood), 
 he had almost forgotten that he had ever been married 
 at all. 
 
 The others refreshed themselves at intervals during 
 the proceedings, but Murray was ready to drink with 
 any one. Finally, when the guests were gone, and 
 some lively spirits proposed to go down to the Sheri- 
 dan and end the evening with a rubber or two, he 
 was quite willing, and Crayshaw unintentionally put 
 the final touch to his resolve, by asking if he was 
 going home. Murray had drunk enough to make 
 him obstinate and a little inclined to be quarrelsome, 
 and instantly took it into his head that Crayshaw 
 wished to show him that he ought to go home. 
 
 Undoubtedly Crayshaw did think so. He was very 
 sorry for Sylvia, but what could he do ? 
 
 He went to the Sheridan with the others, though, 
 as a rule, a party of half-drunken, excited boys would
 
 i8o THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA. 
 
 have possessed little attraction for him, but Murray 
 played and drank, and Crayshaw could do nothing. 
 
 Murray himself was the first to move. 
 
 After solemnly playing through a game in which 
 he held the cards upside down, he got up complain- 
 ing that there was something very odd about them, a 
 fact which he appeared disposed to lay to his partner's 
 charge. 
 
 However, he was not anxious to discuss the ques- 
 tion, and was quite willing to go home with Crayshaw 
 as the latter proposed. Having got as far as the club 
 steps, however, he sat down, smiling, but refusing to 
 go any further. 
 
 Crayshaw paused irresolutely. 
 
 " Look here, Murray, you're drunk," he said gravely. 
 
 Murray smiled still more, and acknowledged that 
 he was. 
 
 "Aren't you ashamed of yourself? Aren't you 
 ashamed to go home to your wife in this con- 
 dition ? " 
 
 But Murray only smiled, and said he wasn't going 
 home, and wasn't in any condition. 
 
 Crayshaw gave an impatient sigh. 
 
 He did not quite know what to do. He thought 
 for a moment of taking Murray to his rooms for the 
 night, but finally gave up the idea. He felt he could 
 not leave his friend's wife to wait probably in great 
 anxiety all night, neither could he well go at two in 
 the morning and call on her, to inform her that her 
 husband was too drunk to go home. 
 
 Murray was not in a state to hear reason, so Crayshaw 
 finally decided to put him in a cab, and send him to
 
 THE WA Y MURRA Y SPENT HIS EVENING. 181 
 
 his house. He himself would only be in the way, he 
 thought, if he accompanied his friend. 
 
 Mrs. Murray must bear her own troubles, poor girl ; 
 he could not help her no one could help her. 
 
 Crayshaw put Murray into a cab, gave his address 
 to the driver, and turned away with a sigh. 
 
 As for Sylvia, she had her dinner by herself very 
 tranquilly, but her feelings became more and more 
 injured as the evening passed on, and Murray did not 
 make his appearance. 
 
 She determined that she really must speak very 
 seriously to him when he came in. He had not been 
 behaving at all well to her lately, and though she 
 was not angry only vexed, she said to herself, she 
 must make him understand that she could not let 
 such conduct pass, in justice to herself. That there 
 was anything to object to in her treatment of Murray, 
 never entered her head. 
 
 She was sorry for herself, and began to fear that 
 her husband was not all that she had thought him 
 that was all. She was not in the least uneasy, and 
 when twelve o'clock came, and he had not returned, 
 she decided to go to bed, and put off her serious talk 
 with him till the next day. But Sylvia was fond of 
 Murray still. 
 
 It was all very well to go to bed, but she did not 
 quite like going to sleep till her forgiveness had been 
 asked and granted. After all, Arthur was always very 
 penitent. 
 
 So Sylvia lay with her sleepy violet eyes half shut, 
 and dozed, and woke up again, till at last, as time 
 went on, she began to be vaguely uneasy.
 
 182 THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA. 
 
 Her ears were very wide awake when the latch-key 
 did at last turn in the door, after a little vague 
 fumbling round it, and she lay very still and listened. 
 
 A few uncertain steps in the hall below, and then a 
 fall. Sylvia jumped up in bed with sudden alarm. 
 
 Dead silence ensued, which she could not stand for 
 more than a minute. 
 
 She sprang out of bed, and ran to the head of the 
 stairs. Murray was lying along the bottom steps, 
 huddled up together very strangely, with his head 
 resting on his arm. Sylvia was thoroughly frightened 
 now ; without, to do her justice, one thought of her 
 causes of offence with Murray, she ran downstairs, 
 and threw her arms round him, trying to raise him. 
 
 " Oh, Arthur darling, what is the matter ? " she 
 said. Murray had been asleep, but he raised his 
 head now, and looked at her in serene bewilderment, 
 muttering something unintelligible. 
 
 Sylvia knew nothing whatever about drunkenness, 
 but there was no mistaking his expressionless, vacant 
 look, and heavy helplessness. 
 
 She was struck with sudden horror and disgust of 
 him fear of any one in his condition was impossible. 
 She felt herself very forlorn. All the help she 
 could have called, had she wished to do so, was that 
 of two women like herself Lewis did not sleep in 
 the house. 
 
 Besides, her one idea now was that no one must 
 know. This gave her strength to overcome her 
 feeling of repugnance to touching Murray, who had 
 gone tranquilly to sleep again. It took a great deal 
 of urging to persuade him to let himself be helped
 
 THE WA Y MVRRA Y SPENT HIS EVENING. 183 
 
 upstairs ; and worse than all, Sylvia thought, was a 
 sudden affectionate impulse that seized him when he 
 got to his room, and had been a little roused by the 
 exertion. But at last she managed to persuade him 
 to lie down on the sofa in his dressing-room, where- 
 upon he instantly fell asleep again. 
 
 And Sylvia, standing there looking at him, burst 
 into tears tears of disgust with her husband, of 
 intensest pity of herself.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 RECONCILIA T1ON. 
 
 MURRAY awoke next morning with a splitting head- 
 ache, and only a vague recollection of the night 
 before. 
 
 It all came back to him gradually. 
 
 He found himself on a sofa instead of in bed, and 
 after sleepy surprise at this fact, he also discovered 
 that he was fully dressed and in uniform, and then 
 he suddenly remembered everything. He buried his 
 face in the pillow, and though he was alone, his dark 
 cheek reddened. 
 
 How he had got home he had not the vaguest idea, 
 but he had a dim remembrance of having seen Sylvia 
 on his arrival, and, in utter shame and disgust with 
 himself, he felt as if he could scarcely bear to see her 
 again. 
 
 But even as he thought so, she appeared at the 
 dressing-room door, fresh and fair as ever, but very 
 grave. 
 
 " Are you ready for some breakfast, Arthur ? " she 
 said. 
 
 She was determined that there should be no possi- 
 bility of accusing her of failing in her duty. Despise 
 
 184
 
 RECONCILIA TION. 185 
 
 Arthur as she might and did, she was at least deter- 
 mined to look after his bodily wants. 
 
 He sprang up from his reclining position, feeling 
 sick and giddy with the sudden movement. 
 
 " Sylvia," he said in a low voice, scarcely daring to 
 look at her, " may I speak to you ? " 
 
 " Certainly," said Sylvia, gravely, " I only came to 
 ask if you wanted breakfast, but if you have anything 
 to say to me ? " 
 
 " Will you sit down ? " he said hesitatingly. 
 
 Sylvia seated herself on the sofa from which he had 
 risen, but she made no effort to help him to begin. 
 That was not included in her ideas of her duty. 
 
 Such a contrast they looked Sylvia, neat, fresh, 
 and pretty, with her rosy lips firmly set, and a 
 virtuous rigidity about her altogether ; Arthur lean- 
 ing on the arm of the sofa in his crumpled mess- 
 jacket, with his flushed, guilty face and untidy hair. 
 
 " I am ashamed to speak to you," said he in a low 
 voice. 
 
 " If you have any excuse to make ? " said Sylvia. 
 
 " I have no excuse to make. I have behaved like 
 a brute no, that is too mild a word for it," said 
 Murray, slowly. " I don't deserve to be near you. I 
 daren't ask you to forgive me." 
 
 Sylvia began to relent. Murray was so utterly in 
 the wrong that she could afford to be gracious to 
 him. 
 
 " I do forgive you," she said gravely. 
 
 " My darling my darling you are an angel " 
 said poor Murray, brokenly. 
 
 He knew very well by this time that Sylvia was far
 
 1 86 THE STORY OF S YL VIA . 
 
 from being an angel, but, for all that, he meant what 
 he said at the moment. 
 
 Sylvia was rather disposed to agree with him on 
 the whole. She admired her own magnanimity 
 greatly. 
 
 But when Murray, kneeling before her, his dark 
 face hidden, tried to take her into his confidence, as 
 he had never done before, and tell her about his 
 faults and temptations, she was shocked and startled. 
 
 " Oh, Arthur you must not you must not talk to 
 me about such things ! " she said. 
 
 Murray was silent for a moment, with a sudden 
 feeling of check and disappointment ; then he said, 
 very gently : 
 
 " I am sorry if I have shocked you, darling. I only 
 wanted I wanted to have full confidence between us, 
 and to tell you everything about myself. My darling, 
 don't you think haven't you felt that we have been 
 falling away from each other lately ? " 
 
 " I don't know what you mean," Sylvia returned. 
 " I have not felt anything of the kind, only you 
 know you have not been quite so nice to me lately." 
 
 Murray sighed, and looked wistfully into her serene 
 little face. 
 
 " I can't tell you how sorry I am, darling," he said. 
 " It sha'n't happen again. Sylvia, tell me you love me 
 in spite of everything." 
 
 Sylvia told him so in her sweetest tone. 
 
 And then Murray's spirits rose in a way which she 
 considered showed an utter want of due appreciation 
 of his wrong-doings. She really felt herself bound to 
 remind him, later on, of the evening before, by a slight
 
 RECONCILIATION. 187 
 
 allusion to it. And he was very loving and devoted 
 all day. 
 
 Sylvia rejoiced at the salutary change in him, and 
 was very kind to him, from a height of superiority, 
 however, which he vaguely felt. 
 
 But who could say she had not every right to feel 
 superior to him ?
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 GEORGE WRITES POETRY. 
 
 THE next few days passed most serenely. 
 
 Murray was exemplary, and quite at Sylvia's beck 
 and call. 
 
 He once made a vague suggestion of going down 
 to Malahide with Captain Atterly and Crayshaw to 
 shoot duck by moonlight, but yielded at once to 
 Sylvia's horror at the idea of a whole night with 
 only women in the house. 
 
 He even endured George with wonderful placidity,, 
 only keeping out of his way as much as possible. His 
 endurance, however, had the reverse of a satisfactory 
 effect. 
 
 When Sylvia found that George could come and 
 go without any objection, and that she could talk of 
 him without being snubbed, she did not quite know 
 where to stop. 
 
 Murray's patience gave way when, returning one 
 day for lunch, he found Sylvia seated in an almost 
 dark drawing-room, hung round in all directions with 
 curtains of greeny-blue. 
 
 Sylvia's offended explanation that this was meant 
 as a pleasant surprise for him soothed him a little,
 
 GEORGE WRITES POETRY. 189 
 
 and restrained him from pulling down the curtains, 
 but he could not be brought to admire George's taste. 
 
 The climax came next day. 
 
 Murray, coming upstairs three steps at a time on his 
 return from duty, was met by Sylvia at the drawing- 
 room door. 
 
 " Hush ! " said she, her finger on her lips. 
 
 "What on earth is the matter?" exclaimed he, 
 startled. 
 
 "Don't speak so loud. George is in there 
 writing," said Sylvia, mysteriously. 
 
 " Well," said Murray, with impatience, " am I to be 
 stopped going into my own drawing-room because a 
 visitor is there ? Let me pass, Sylvia." 
 
 " Oh, Arthur ! " whispered Sylvia, in an agony of 
 anxiety, "don't speak so loud you will disturb him ! " 
 
 " I don't care whether I do or not This is absurd, 
 Sylvia." 
 
 " Oh, Arthur dear, do go down to the dining-room, 
 and I will come to you in a minute. You don't under- 
 stand." 
 
 " I understand that I want an ordnance map out 
 of my desk, for I have got to make out a map of 
 yesterday's march, which I didn't finish at the time." 
 
 " I will fetch it for you," Sylvia answered, eagerly. 
 " Do go to the dining-room, dear." 
 
 And Murray yielded, his meekness being partly 
 owing to his astonishment. 
 
 She appeared with his desk in a few minutes, but 
 did not seem disposed to remain. 
 
 " I want to hear what is the meaning of this, 
 Sylvia," said Murray, angrily.
 
 igo THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 " I will tell you all about it afterwards ; but I 
 really haven't time now. I must go back." 
 
 " Surely you aren't writing too ? " said Murray, 
 sarcastically. 
 
 But Sylvia answered, in all good faith : " No ; 
 but George likes to be played to while he writes. 
 He says it helps him, and I understand him so 
 well." 
 
 She made an effort to get away, but Murray held 
 her wrist. 
 
 " I think you and Egerton are both mad ! " he said. 
 " This is absurd, Sylvia. You shall stay with me, and 
 George must endeavour to write without music. I 
 won't have this kind of thing ; do you hear ? " 
 
 " I can hear without your requiring to shout, Arthur. 
 Of course I must stay if you order me to," said Sylvia, 
 with a resigned shrug of her shoulders. 
 
 " I order you simply to choose between me and 
 Egerton," said Murray, sternly. 
 
 " That means you want me to give up an old and 
 true friend ; the only person I can depend on and put 
 faith in," said Sylvia." 
 
 " Am I not your friend ? Can't you put faith in 
 me ? " said Murray. 
 
 " How can you expect me to have faith in you ? " 
 said Sylvia, sadly. 
 
 Murray started and coloured. 
 
 " Oh, Sylvia, be a little kinder to me ! " he said 
 pleadingly. " Don't lose your faith in me, or I won't 
 answer for myself. Don't tell me you believe in 
 Egerton and not. in me ! " 
 
 There were actually tears in his dark eyes, and
 
 GEORGE WRITES POETRY. 191 
 
 Sylvia penitently threw her arms round his neck and 
 kissed him. 
 
 " Don't be vexed, Arthur dear," she said softly. 
 
 " I am not vexed with you, but with myself," he 
 said. " Sylvia, my darling, if you fail me I shall go 
 to the devil. I am afraid of myself if you don't 
 believe in me, I shall lose all faith in myself," he 
 ended, wistfully. 
 
 And Sylvia was very sweet to him, but utterly 
 obdurate in what concerned George. She could not 
 and would not change her behaviour towards him. 
 
 And all Arthur could gain, among many caresses 
 and loving words, was that he should not be invited 
 often to occupy the drawing-room, and, above all, 
 that if any visitors called they were not to be informed 
 that Mrs. Murray was engaged in playing to Mr. 
 Egerton and could not be disturbed. 
 
 "You see, darling, / know I can trust you," said 
 Murray, tenderly, " but it would sound a little odd."
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 HARRY. 
 
 HARRY was coming to Dublin. 
 
 Great was Sylvia's delight at the news. She heard 
 it in a letter from Floss, declining an invitation to her- 
 self; and though Sylvia was much disappointed by 
 her refusal, she had more than half expected it, and 
 Harry's coming was a quite unthought of delight 
 
 Sylvia knew very well that for Floss to get away 
 from home was almost an impossibility, but all the 
 same she was very anxious for her to come to Dublin. 
 
 In her match-making little brain she had formed 
 the idea of marrying Crayshaw, a great favourite of 
 hers, to Floss, quite regardless of the fact that the 
 two had already met, without feeling any violent at- 
 traction for each other. 
 
 It was too provoking of Fate to throw obstacles in 
 the way of this scheme for the benefit of everybody, 
 and reduce Sylvia to be contented with talking to 
 Captain Crayshaw of Floss, and writing to her of him, 
 to an extent that considerably surprised them, not 
 being in the secret. 
 
 However, Harry's coming was considerably better 
 than nothing, and though Murray had had so much of 
 
 192
 
 HARRY. 193 
 
 one member of the Egerton family lately that he 
 scarcely welcomed the idea of another as much as 
 he would once have done, still he consented readily 
 enough that Harry should be asked to stay with them 
 for a while till he could look out lodgings for himself. 
 
 He was going to have one more trial for the Civil 
 Service, preceded by a few months' cramming in 
 Dublin, as home study had not been found very 
 successful. 
 
 As for Harry himself, he was jubilant at the idea. 
 He had never been to Dublin before, and it would be 
 a splendid outing for him, he wrote to Sylvia. 
 
 It was good to see the honest, ugly, home face 
 again, Sylvia thought when he came. 
 
 He himself was in wild spirits. He, at least, failed 
 in nothing to respond to her welcome, and they went 
 upstairs, talking as if they had had only five minutes 
 to spend together. 
 
 Harry did not like the dusk of the drawing-room 
 at all better than Murray had done. 
 
 " Dear me, Sylvia," he said, " do you and Murray 
 prefer to live like owls ? " 
 
 But then he forgot about it in telling her all the 
 news, and talking about what he intended to do. 
 
 " I am not going to the crammers for a week, 
 Sylvia," he said. " You see, I want to see as much 
 as I can of Dublin, as I have never seen it before." 
 
 " People will laugh at you if you talk like that," 
 said Sylvia. 
 
 " I don't care if they do," he returned stoutly. " I 
 want to see the Park and the Four Courts, and all 
 sorts of things." 
 
 14
 
 194 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 " Good gracious, Harry, you are going to turn out 
 a regular country cousin on my hands ! " said Sylvia, 
 laughing. " You shall see everything. Arthur is 
 going to take you to dine at mess to-morrow night, 
 and the night after I am having a tiny dinner-party 
 in your honour." 
 
 " That will be jolly. I have never dined at mess 
 except at Delagherty, and that isn't much. Who is 
 coming to dinner, Sylvia ? " 
 
 " Nobody you know, except the Atterlys, and 
 George, of course." 
 
 " And when are we going to the theatre ? " 
 
 " Oh, I don't know. To-night, if you like, if Arthur 
 is home early enough arid there are tickets to be 
 had." 
 
 And Harry's delight amused her very much. 
 
 He was eager to be about something at once, and 
 Sylvia was obliged to yield so far as to take him for 
 a walk through the streets, where he was interested in 
 everything, and did not even despise shop-windows.
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 HARRY MAKES HIMSELF DISAGREEABLE. 
 
 HARRY enjoyed himself to the full next day. He 
 was anxious to see everything, except his crammer, 
 and do everything, except look for lodgings. 
 
 He was highly delighted when the evening came, 
 and he and Murray went off together to dine at mess. 
 
 Mess at Delagherty had not been a very lively 
 affair. There were too few men there, and too many 
 of those few were seniors. But here Harry was in his 
 element. 
 
 He sat next Murray, of course, but by the time 
 dinner was over had struck up an acquaintance with 
 everybody near him. 
 
 He amused them all highly. Blast boys, three or 
 four years younger than himself, were much enter- 
 tained to hear all Harry had not seen or done. 
 
 He did not mind being laughed at in the very 
 slightest, and towards the end of the evening he was 
 a tremendous favourite all round, and had accepted 
 dozens of invitations, to shoot (about which he did 
 know something), play golf, go to the theatre, dine at 
 the club, and so on. 
 
 And later still, when the guests and a good many 
 195
 
 1 96 THE S TOR Y OF SYL VIA . 
 
 others had left, and the rest sat round the fire and 
 began to tell stories, Harry found there were one or 
 two other things in which the youngest subaltern 
 there had the advantage if such it was to be con- 
 sidered of him. 
 
 If he had been wise, he would have kept this fact to 
 himself, but Harry was not very wise. There was at 
 once a general desire to enlighten him, in which his 
 objections were overruled. 
 
 To do Murray justice, he had nothing to say to 
 this, but he made no attempt to interfere when Harry 
 was carried off half resisting. They were both home, 
 however, before two o'clock ; Harry wiser, and if 
 not sadder, a little more subdued for his evening's 
 experiences. 
 
 Next morning at breakfast he had, however, fully 
 regained his careless high spirits. He was enthusi- 
 astic on the subject of regimental life, and said that if 
 he had not been too old he would have dropped the 
 Civil Service at once, and gone in for the army. 
 
 Murray laughed, but Sylvia was indignant 
 
 " I am very glad you are too old, Harry," she said 
 impatiently. " I believe you have no sense at all. 
 Getting into the army is not so easy as all that." 
 
 " I'll tell you one thing," said Harry, tranquilly ; 
 " if I fail in the Civil, I shall enlist." 
 
 " I shouldn't advise that," returned Murray. ' 
 
 " Oh, a gentleman will always rise quickly," re- 
 marked Harry, confidently. 
 
 As he appeared to consider he knew more about 
 the matter than Murray, the latter said nothing in 
 reply ; but Sylvia began an indignant remonstrance.
 
 HARR Y MAKES HIMSELF DISA GREEABLE. 197 
 
 " You need not say any more," interrupted Harry ; 
 " if I fail, I shall enlist. I have quite made up my 
 mind." 
 
 " Since last night, I suppose," cried Sylvia, re- 
 signedly. 
 
 Remonstrance with Harry she knew to be useless. 
 She struck, however, at his next proposal, that he 
 should learn the bagpipes. 
 
 " Even if / could bear it, Harry, think of the people 
 next door it's impossible." 
 
 " Only the small chanter, Sylvia," Harry pleaded, 
 " it doesn't make much noise ; and then I shall have 
 some lessons." 
 
 " What do you know about small chanters, you 
 ridiculous boy ! " said Sylvia ; while Murray only 
 laughed. " You will have plenty to do without learn- 
 ing the bagpipes. Are you going, Arthur ? " 
 
 " Yes, I must be off. Will you walk up to the 
 golf-ground this afternoon, Sylvia ? I am thinking of 
 having a few rounds." 
 
 " I am afraid I can't go. George said he would 
 call, in the afternoon." 
 
 Murray said no more, and did not attempt to press 
 her in any way. George's name was enough for him. 
 He had said all he could to her about receiving 
 him so often, and told her clearly enough what he 
 had no doubt people said about the matter ; but 
 Sylvia had only said she would never give up a friend 
 for fear of gossip, and from this noble standpoint 
 nothing could move her. 
 
 Murray could not, and would not, ask George to 
 pay his wife less frequent visits. So he received
 
 198 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 Sylvia's placid words in dead silence, a silence which 
 surprised Harry, quite unconscious of any reason for 
 it. 
 
 " I'll go up, Murray," he said, " and have my first 
 lesson. How does he play, Sylvia ? Shall I have a 
 good instructor ? " 
 
 " I am sure I don't know," Sylvia returned, tran- 
 quilly ; " I have never seen him play." 
 
 " Oh ! " was all Harry said ; but he looked very 
 hard at Sylvia. 
 
 " I have promised to play with one of your fellows 
 to-morrow I am sure I don't know his name," Harry 
 went on after a pause ; " so perhaps I had better have 
 an idea of the game first. If you're going to barracks 
 now, Murray, I'll walk up with you." 
 
 " Oh, but Harry, when are you going to your 
 crammer's ? " suggested Sylvia, anxiously. 
 
 " I told you I wasn't going near him for a week. 
 Besides, I don't know that I care much about this 
 exam. now. I almost think I would sooner enlist." 
 
 " Oh, Harry ! you would try the patience of a 
 saint ! " cried Sylvia. 
 
 " And you are by no means a saint, my dear," 
 returned Harry, imperturbably.
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 HARRY MAKES HIMSELF STILL MORE 
 DISAGREEABLE. 
 
 THERE was rather a difficulty about ladies for the 
 dinner that evening. 
 
 Sylvia had become intimately acquainted with most 
 of the officers in the regiment, but she knew their 
 wives only very slightly. She never had become, 
 or cared to become, very intimate with other women, 
 with the notable exception of Floss, whom she had 
 known all her life. 
 
 However, there was Mrs. Atterly, and Major 
 Rutledge's wife and two nieces ; so, as the party was 
 a small one, they managed very well. 
 
 Sylvia expended a great deal of anxiety on the 
 knotty point of how her guests were to go in to dinner. 
 Major Rutledge's military rank was of course higher 
 than Captain Crayshaw's, but then the latter was the 
 Honourable ; so Sylvia was much perplexed as to 
 which ought to have the honour of taking her in. 
 There was no question about the ladies, fortunately, 
 Mrs. Rutledge undoubtedly taking precedence of Mrs. 
 Atterly. 
 
 Harry had the pleasure of taking in the youngest
 
 200 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 and prettiest Miss Rutledge, and made himself im- 
 mensely agreeable to her during dinner. In the 
 evening he devoted himself to Mrs. Rutledge, and 
 Sylvia heard him confiding to her his purpose in 
 coming to Dublin, his desire to learn the bagpipes, 
 and various other little facts, much to her amuse- 
 ment. 
 
 She was a stout, motherly old person, and much 
 flattered by Harry's attentions ; and as for that youth 
 himself, he honestly thought her charming. 
 
 Mrs. Atterly, a faded but still handsome woman, 
 about whom a good many stories were current in 
 barracks, appropriated Murray. 
 
 Sylvia knew there had been a time when he, in his 
 usual headlong fashion, had thought there was no one 
 in the world like Mrs. Atterly, and looked on with 
 some amusement. And neither Murray nor Mrs. 
 Atterly had forgotten it either. 
 
 Altogether, everybody was pleased, and Sylvia's 
 first dinner-party was a great success. 
 
 Harry, in particular, was highly delighted with all 
 the Rutledges, and had already got so far as to 
 promise them a visit on their next at-home day. 
 
 Sylvia sighed, as every hour seemed to make the 
 crammer fade still further into the distance. In fact, 
 Harry was as impracticable to work with for her as 
 she was for Murray. 
 
 Harry's next few days were very busy very busy 
 indeed. He never had a moment to spare among all 
 the people whose acquaintance he had struck up. 
 
 Of course he called on the Rutledges, with a 
 promptitude which amused Sylvia, and probably
 
 HA RRY S TIL L MORE DISA GREEA BLE. 201 
 
 amused them too ; and then he was tremendous 
 friends with all the Black Watch officers, and most of 
 George's regiment as well. 
 
 What troubled Sylvia chiefly was an acquaintance 
 he had struck up at a tobacconist's. Harry had been 
 accustomed to know all the shopkeepers and trades- 
 people about Delagherty, and did not in the least 
 see why he should not do the same in Dublin. He 
 assured Sylvia his friends the McCurdys were charm- 
 ing ; Mr. McCurdy was so very civil, and quite a 
 gentleman in his manners. 
 
 Murray only laughed at Sylvia's dismay, and said 
 he might have found worse friends for himself, and 
 they would do him no harm. 
 
 And whenever Harry had a spare moment, he 
 employed it in studying Sylvia and Murray with a 
 puzzled curiosity. He wondered if all married people 
 took as little interest in each other as Sylvia seemed 
 to do in her husband, and presently he wondered 
 too if they all took as much interest in somebody 
 else. 
 
 Harry had been several days in Dublin before he 
 happened to come upon and interrupt one of George 
 and Sylvia's seances. 
 
 Sylvia, on the alert as usual, had time to rush out 
 and hush him at the drawing-room door ; but Harry 
 was not so easily subdued as Murray. 
 
 " Writing, is he ? " he said ; " and what are you 
 doing ? Playing to him ? I never heard such non- 
 sense ! " 
 
 " Do go downstairs, Harry dear, and don't inter- 
 rupt," said Sylvia, under her breath-
 
 202 THE STOR Y OF S YL VIA 
 
 " Playing to him indeed ! /'// play to him ! " 
 exclaimed Harry. 
 
 He had neither the awkwardness of the position 
 of host, nor the anxiety of avoiding a quarrel with 
 Sylvia to restrain him, and pushed past her without 
 ceremony. 
 
 George got up on his entrance, but did not move. 
 
 " Good evening, George," said Harry, cheerfully. 
 " Sylvia has a little too much to do to play for you all 
 day ; but if I can be of any use ? If you would care 
 for the bagpipes, or even the piano " and Harry 
 struck a false chord which made his brother shudder. 
 
 " Oh, Harry ! " cried Sylvia, in distress. " It was 
 not my fault, George ; he would come in." 
 
 " It doesn't matter at all," said George, with resigned 
 melancholy. " I am accustomed to it, and very much 
 obliged to you, Sylvia." 
 
 " Harry, do go away please, dear Harry ! " urged 
 Sylvia. 
 
 " I'm sure I don't see why I should," returned he, 
 tranquilly seating himself. "Why shouldn't I be 
 played to as well as George? I believe, I do really 
 believe I might then be inspired too ! " 
 
 " Don't trouble yourself, Sylvia, my dear," said 
 George, loftily. " I could not go on now. My 
 ideas are disturbed. I will come again another day." 
 
 " I am not driving you away, George, I hope ? " said 
 Harry, politely " at least you will read me something 
 you have written first ? " 
 
 But George took no notice of him further than a 
 cold nod, and left the room, followed by Sylvia in 
 great distress, leaving Harry triumphant.
 
 HARRY STILL MORE DISAGREEABLE. 203 
 
 He was not the least penitent, either, when she 
 returned, and her reproachful " Oh, Harry, how could 
 you ? " only made him laugh. 
 
 " I hope I have not lost some precious lines 
 to posterity," he said " Sylvia, you are a funny 
 
 girl." 
 
 " You don't understand George how could you ? " 
 said Sylvia, sadly. 
 
 "Sylvia," said Harry, "don't be a little fool! I 
 really think conceit has sent George off his head, and 
 the more you flatter him up the worse he will get. 
 Why, his name is never out of your mouth ! " 
 
 " I only wish you were like him," said Sylvia, 
 mournfully. 
 
 " Heaven forbid ! " exclaimed Harry, hastily and 
 fervently. " One lunatic in a family is enough ! " 
 
 " That is a very nice way to speak of your brother," 
 said Sylvia. 
 
 " May I ask what Murray says to these dark 
 interviews ? " 
 
 " Arthur does not interfere," said Sylvia, coldly. 
 " But, all the same, I don't suppose he likes it. 
 Sylvia, though you don't seem to think so, Murray is 
 worth a dozen of George, with his affectations and 
 ladylike ways. And yet you take the deepest interest 
 in George in me in every one except Murray, it 
 seems to me." 
 
 " Oh, nonsense ! " said Sylvia, hastily. 
 " It is all very well to say that ; but do you take 
 any interest in Murray ? " persisted Harry. 
 
 " Of course I should if anything serious concerned 
 him," returned Sylvia, indignantly. "You don't
 
 204 THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA. 
 
 expect me to get excited over his golf, or his boxing, 
 or his billiards ? " 
 
 " Well, I don't know. I think 7 should, if I was 
 married to you." 
 
 " But as you are not, can't you leave Arthur's 
 concerns to him to look after ? " 
 
 But Harry's only response was, " Ah, Sylvia, I am 
 very glad I have often been very glad in these last 
 few days that you would not have me when I asked 
 you long ago."
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 THE EIGHTEENTH OF MARCH, 
 
 AFTER this day, Sylvia was not as sorry as she 
 would otherwise have been when Harry did at last 
 establish himself in lodgings about a fortnight later. 
 
 She did not at all care to feel that he noticed every 
 remark she made to Murray, and every time George's 
 name occurred in the conversation. 
 
 Besides, though it was all very well for him to 
 become utterly devoted to the Rutledges one and all, 
 his friend the tobacconist was too much of a good 
 thing, especially as Harry was urgent he should be 
 asked to afternoon tea. SucJi a nice man ; he was 
 certain Sylvia would like him if she only knew him, 
 and quite a gentleman. 
 
 Sylvia had no doubt that Mr. McCurdy would be 
 asked to tea in Harry's lodgings, and perhaps the 
 whole family. 
 
 Still, there was a blank in the house when he went, 
 and she missed him wonderfully. 
 
 Murray was not very much at home now, but he 
 was always ready with a good and sufficient excuse. 
 These were very busy times, he declared, and 
 though Sylvia rather wondered that, now leave was
 
 206 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 over, there should be apparently even more to be 
 done than before, she accepted his excuses in all good 
 faith. 
 
 He was very loving and tender while with her 
 more so than he had ever been ; and if he did some- 
 times speak to her with a sudden sharpness which 
 surprised her, he was always instantly sorry and 
 ashamed of himself. 
 
 And one evening he came in early in a different 
 mood. It was some time now since he had come to 
 sit at Sylvia's feet in the drawing-room after dinner, 
 as he had once always done. Harry's visit had 
 broken off the habit, and they had not resumed it. 
 
 But this evening he came over at once, and settled 
 himself in his old attitude. Sylvia was a little sur- 
 prised, but she put down her book at once, and smiled 
 at him. 
 
 " Do you know that this is the eighteenth of 
 March, Sylvia ? " said Murray, softly, ' and we have 
 been married five months to-day." 
 
 " So we have. It seems longer than that, doesn't 
 it ? " 
 
 " I have been thinking a good deal this afternoon," 
 went on Murray, in his deep, grave voice, " and, Sylvia, 
 I have been wondering are we any closer together 
 than we were then ? We should be, darling." 
 
 " Then I suppose we are," said Sylvia, lightly ; " we 
 get on very well, don't we, dear ? " 
 
 " Not as I once thought hoped we would," said 
 Murray, in a low voice. 
 
 " Oh, one has always absurd romantic ideas which 
 couldn't possibly be realised," said Sylvia, twisting
 
 THE EIGHTEENTH OF MARCH. 207 
 
 his hair round her fingers as his head rested against 
 her knee. 
 
 " I don't see why they should not be realised," said 
 he earnestly ; " but oh, Sylvia, it is my fault I have 
 been untrue to you ! " 
 
 " What ! " cried Sylvia, starting. 
 
 " Oh, no ! not that ! " he answered quickly " only 
 in thought, my darling nothing more, I swear to 
 you." 
 
 There was a short pause, and then Murray went on 
 in a low tone : 
 
 " I made up my mind to tell you everything to- 
 day, dear, and start afresh. First will you forgive 
 me, darling ? the excuses I made to you about my 
 being busy have not always been true I could have 
 been more with you." 
 
 " Arthur ! " was all Sylvia said, but she drew away 
 from him quickly. Her vanity was wounded, and 
 that was a very sensitive part of Sylvia's organi- 
 sation. 
 
 " Yes, dear, I have often been to the club in the 
 evenings when I might have been here, and I have 
 played and lost a good deal, Sylvia. Not more than 
 I can afford to pay, but still, more than is pleasant to 
 think of." 
 
 Sylvia was utterly astounded. She had accepted 
 all Murray's excuses without a single doubt, and 
 never for an instant had imagined that he was per- 
 haps not so busy as he had declared. She made no 
 attempt to speak, however, and he went on : 
 
 " Rightly or wrongly, I don't think so badly of all 
 this as of my having been so often to the Atterlys'."
 
 208 THE S TOR Y OF SYL VIA . 
 
 " The Atterlys' ! What do you mean ? " said 
 Sylvia, hastily. 
 
 " I mean I have been there often sometimes 
 alone with her," said Murray, slowly. " You know 
 I cared once and sometimes I have felt only for a 
 moment untrue to you." 
 
 " Yes ? " said Sylvia, under her breath, as he 
 paused. 
 
 " That is all," he answered. " I have nothing more 
 to say, Sylvia. That is the worst if you can forgive 
 me?" 
 
 " Is that all ? " said Sylvia, so relieved as to be 
 almost pleased. It was like him to make such a fuss 
 about nothing. 
 
 She was serenely confident in Murray's love. It 
 never occurred to her that it might change, or grow 
 less, or that her own conduct towards him might 
 have anything to do with its cessation or continuance. 
 She was not in the least jealous of Mrs. Atterly, or 
 any one else. 
 
 " You foolish boy ! " she said carelessly, " you 
 frightened me. Don't go so much to the Atterlys' 
 if you think you had better not." 
 
 Murray was hurt at being taken so lightly. It had 
 cost him a good deal to say what he had said to 
 Sylvia, and she did not seem to think anything of it. 
 
 " Sylvia," he said earnestly, " if you would care a 
 little more if you would take a little more interest 
 in what concerns me, it would be different. Darling, 
 do let us try if we can't be more to each other. Let 
 us agree both to give up a little." 
 
 Sylvia was touched by his eagerness.
 
 THE EIGHTEENTH OF MARCH. 209 
 
 " Yes, you are right, dear ; we will try," she said, 
 and Murray kissed her hand passionately. 
 
 " Look here, darling," he said, " would you mind 
 what would you think if I were to leave the army ? 
 Anything would be better for me than this kind of 
 life, and we might live at home, and I could make 
 farming my business." 
 
 But Sylvia's horrified exclamation, " Leave the 
 army ! Oh, Arthur, you don't mean it ? " was enough 
 for him. He did not persist, perhaps because he did 
 not really want it himself. 
 
 " It shall be as you like, only it would be safer, 
 dear," he said. " This is a bad sort of life for a 
 fellow like me." 
 
 " Really, I hope you are enough of a man to stand 
 against a little temptation," said Sylvia. 
 
 " I will, my darling I will try," he answered. " I 
 will give up Mrs. Atterly ; I will keep out of her 
 way carefully : and you, won't you in return give up 
 George Egerton ? " 
 
 But Sylvia froze at once. 
 
 " I have answered you that question often enough," 
 she said coldly. " I will not give up George. Because 
 you find Mrs. Atterly dangerous for you, there is no 
 reason I should give up my friend." 
 
 Murray sprang to his feet. 
 
 " Then I have just this to say : I won't stand your 
 .giving any further opening to gossip, and I forbid you 
 to ask him to the house ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 " Then of course I must obey," said Sylvia, stonily. 
 " Or to have anything further to do with him." 
 " That I will not promise."
 
 210 THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA . 
 
 " Not if I order you ? " 
 
 " No," was all she answered. 
 
 " The fact is, you prefer him to me ! " 
 
 " Certainly I have more reason to care for him. 
 You have several times made me wish I had never 
 seen you," said Sylvia. 
 
 She had no idea of the effect her only half-meant 
 speech would have. The anger in her husband's eyes 
 changed to pain, and he grew rather white. 
 
 " Oh, Sylvia ! " was all he said, with a heavy sigh 
 which broke down her coldness at once. 
 
 But, loving though she might be, Murray could not 
 forget what she had said, or that she had given him 
 no promise about George. 
 
 That evening seemed to have only made them 
 further apart, and though Murray did try to be more 
 at home during the next few days, when he was there 
 they had not much to say to each other. 
 
 Besides, he really was busy now. 
 
 Spring drills had begun, and with early parade at 
 seven, and four separate hours a day drill, he found 
 his time very much cut up. 
 
 It seemed scarcely worth while to go home between 
 times ; the Atterlys' was much nearer, and Mrs. 
 Atterly gave him a warmer welcome than he was 
 likely to get from Sylvia. Besides, as he told him- 
 self to soften his conscience, Sylvia did not mind his 
 going there in the least
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 A LULL BEFORE THE STORM. 
 
 " Now, Sylvia, am I not virtuous to come home so 
 early ? " 
 
 " You shall have a special kiss for it though, after 
 all, eleven is not so very early." 
 
 " Yes, but I left in the middle of tremendous excite- 
 ment. They are all dancing reels." 
 
 Murray had seated himself in the now rarely 
 occupied position at Sylvia's feet, and looked up at 
 her with something like the old loving expression in 
 his eyes. 
 
 There had been neither explanation nor reconcilia- 
 tion, but somehow this night the two felt more as 
 they had done long ago than had been the case for 
 some time. 
 
 Murray was pleased with himself for coming home 
 when he had not felt particularly inclined to do so, 
 and consequently in the humour to be the same with 
 every one else. Sylvia was pleased with him, and 
 always on the best of terms with herself. 
 
 " Had you an amusing evening ? " she said 
 amiably. She had special reasons for wishing to 
 make herself agreeable to her husband to-night.
 
 212 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 "A very lively one, anyway," returned Murray, 
 with a laugh. " To begin with, I was let in for liquor 
 all round for coming into the anteroom improperly 
 dressed ; that is to say, in full uniform without my 
 skeindhu." 
 
 " They noticed that, did they ? " said Sylvia. 
 
 " Indeed they did. Not a very big omission, was 
 it?" 
 
 Murray was highly pleased by Sylvia's interest. 
 He would have been rather given to telling her all 
 the events of the day, had he received encouragement 
 to do so. He went on talking now with boyish 
 eagerness. 
 
 " We had a great joke to-night over a letter I found 
 lying on the floor in the anteroom. I looked at the 
 beginning to see who it belonged to, and what do you 
 think I found ? It began ' My dearest darling,' so I 
 didn't read any more." 
 
 " Very embarrassing for the owner," said Sylvia, 
 which was sufficient to show she was attending. 
 
 " I should think so. Of course there was an awful 
 lot of chaff about it, and everybody looked at every- 
 body else to see who was blushing, and Rutledge, the 
 most correct and much married of men, was accused 
 of it. Finally I stuck it up on the notice-board, and 
 he will be a bold man who claims it, unless he has the 
 room to himself." 
 
 " I hope you never left my letters about," said 
 Sylvia, laughing. 
 
 " Not I, my darling. Not that I believe they ever 
 began as nicely," said Murray, tenderly. 
 
 Sylvia's attention was beginning to flag, and she
 
 A LULL BEFORE THE STORM. 213 
 
 was anxious to come to a little project of her own 
 about the reception of which she was rather doubtful. 
 She began to beat round the bush a little. 
 
 " What about Punchestown, Arthur ? Shall you be 
 on guard ? " 
 
 " That is just the question which is agitating us all. 
 We certainly furnish the guards one day, and the 
 great point is, who will be let in for them. It lies 
 between me and Seymour for the Castle guard, and 
 it's just a toss-up." 
 
 "George Egerton wants us to go down on their 
 drag," said Sylvia. 
 
 Murray frowned, as he generally did when George's 
 name was mentioned. 
 
 " You see you told me you would not be taking 
 down a drag," went on Sylvia ; " it would be twice as 
 much fun to go in a party like that. The Atterlys 
 are going." 
 
 " Sylvia ! " said Murray. 
 
 "Well, if you aren't on guard we can go, can't we, 
 dear ? " said Sylvia, sweetly. 
 
 " But if I am on guard you certainly can't go," he 
 returned, speaking a little sharply. 
 
 Somehow the introduction of the Atterlys' name 
 just then had annoyed him. 
 
 Sylvia said nothing. Even she herself was not at 
 all sure that she could TO then.
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 PUNCHESTO WN. 
 
 LUCKILY there was no occasion for dispute, for 
 Murray was not on guard. Neither did he display 
 any inclination to decline George's invitation, nor 
 show displeasure when the latter managed to arrange 
 that Sylvia should sit next him. Murray had estab- 
 lished himself beside Mrs. Atterly, so what cared he ? 
 
 They were a very well-assorted party on the whole. 
 Harry, who was taking one of his numerous holidays, 
 was, in the absence of the Miss Rutledges, making 
 himself extremely agreeable to a very pretty girl in 
 blue, and everybody else seemed fairly contented with 
 their positions. 
 
 Certainly to neither Sylvia nor Murray did the 
 drive seem too long. 
 
 At Punchestown there was no change of com- 
 panionship. It was not to be expected that George 
 should care for racing, and he did not ; he neither 
 wanted to bet nor to look on, except as much as 
 Sylvia liked, and the latter was much flattered by his 
 going there at all. He had not omitted to inform 
 her that her society was the sole attraction for him. 
 
 As for Murray, he forgot Sylvia, George, even 
 214
 
 PUNCHESTOWN. 215 
 
 Captain Atterly for the time being, and thought of 
 nothing but his companion. The rest of the party 
 might as well have been miles away for all the atten- 
 tion he paid them. 
 
 He, who usually took the deepest and keenest 
 interest in everything connected with racing, was 
 absolutely sorry as they drew near the stand. 
 
 He broke the spell himself. What he said he never 
 quite remembered, but it startled him far more than 
 Mrs. Atterly. 
 
 It wakened him all in a moment to what he was 
 doing, and he blushed crimson with sudden shame 
 and self-contempt Mrs. Atterly was surprised when 
 he left her with an abrupt apology, surprised and 
 offended as well, but he scarcely knew what he was 
 doing. 
 
 Sylvia and George were a few steps behind, but 
 had he wished to join them he would undoubtedly 
 have found himself de trop. He looked at Sylvia 
 with her pretty, shallow face, her bright, untroubled 
 eyes, and the confidence of youth about her every 
 movement, and wondered how he could look at her 
 so coolly, with his mind so utterly full of some one 
 else. 
 
 And yet Murray was not in the least in love with 
 Mrs. Atterly, and he knew he was not. 
 
 She knew it too knew that there was passion, not 
 love, in his dark eyes when he looked at her, and 
 perhaps wished for the days when if he had cared for 
 her wrongfully it had at least been truly. 
 
 Not that she had ever loved Murray. Mrs. Atterly 
 would not have been able to play with fire as she had
 
 2 1 6 THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA. 
 
 done safely again and again if she had ever allowed 
 herself to care for her slaves. She was a little 
 annoyed by his abrupt departure, and by the loss 
 of a handsome, amusing companion, whose devotion 
 flattered her, but nothing more. 
 
 As for him, he never came near his party the rest 
 of the day, but wandered about with different men he 
 knew, betting a great deal, and drinking more than 
 he realised. 
 
 It was with a shock of dismay that he found him- 
 self dazed and unsteady when the time for departure 
 came. He remembered afterwards how anxiously 
 he had asked his companion if he was drunk, and how 
 angrily he had received the truthful response. 
 
 The rest was never more than a misty recoll'ection 
 to him : how he went to the drag, insisted on sitting 
 next Sylvia, said something something insulting he 
 knew it had been to George, how Sylvia shrank from 
 him, and how this hurt him even in his dazed con- 
 dition. 
 
 Then George had told her not to be frightened, he 
 would let no one hurt her; and presently Murray 
 found himself standing alone on the grass, watching 
 the drag disappear from sight along the dusty road.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 UNDER ARREST. 
 
 MURRAY never came home that night, half to Sylvia's 
 dismay, half to her relief. 
 
 It was George who reassured her next morning, 
 and persuaded her to go to Punchestown again as 
 had been arranged. 
 
 Sylvia in her shame, and with some little glimmer- 
 ing of wisdom, had almost made up her mind she 
 would not go, but she was easily over-persuaded. 
 
 There would be plenty of other ladies, George said, 
 so why should she lose the pleasure, and his argu- 
 ments were assisted by the remembrance of Sylvia's 
 very prettiest dress, fresh and unworn in her room 
 upstairs. She had carefully reserved it for this day, 
 and now it would be such a pity not to wear it. 
 
 Undeniably some of the ladies were surprised to 
 see her, especially Mrs. Atterly, who said she was so 
 pleased Mrs. Murray had been able to come ; she had 
 scarcely ventured to hope- 
 Mrs. Atterly was suffering from wounded vanity as 
 well as Sylvia, and this was her way of giving vent 
 to it. As for Harry, he told Sylvia very plainly that 
 she was a fool to come ; but then, with George beside 
 her, she very soon forgot a few unpleasant words.
 
 218 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 She had a delightful day, and almost managed to 
 forget Murray. Only once she happened to come 
 across him, as she went with George into his regi- 
 ment's luncheon tent. 
 
 He walked past her arm-in-arm with some other 
 man, his eyes dazed and his steps unsteady, and 
 recognising her with a start, he took off his hat a 
 moment later, with a weak* deprecatory smile, and a 
 lurch against his companion. 
 
 Sylvia turned away with disgust. 
 
 She felt very frightened and forlorn when George 
 said good-night to her that evening. 
 
 " It is so lonely, George," she said, and she began 
 to cry, quick, frightened, childlike sobs. 
 
 George liked the position of comforter very much. 
 He did not in the least desire to seriously compro- 
 mise either Sylvia or himself, and would have opened 
 his eyes considerably at the idea of outraging pro- 
 priety in any violent manner, but this position of 
 platonic friend, who was yet a little more than a 
 friend, suited him admirably. So he left her, not ill- 
 pleased with things in general, and promised readily 
 enough to come and see her again next morning. 
 
 And he did come, the next, and the next after that, 
 for Murray did not come home. 
 
 How those days passed, Arthur Murray never quite 
 knew. He remembered afterwards losing a good deal of 
 money in bets, drinking a good deal, and then in the 
 evenings at the Sheridan playing and losing still more. 
 Whether he ever went to bed, and if so how and 
 where, were doubtful points in his memory, but he 
 supposed he must have slept in some of his brother-
 
 UNDER ARREST. 219 
 
 officers' rooms, already so well crowded with guests 
 that one more or less did not make much difference. 
 
 Harry sought him out, and tried to remonstrate 
 with him once ; Crayshaw did the same, but with 
 little hope of success ; he had known Murray twice 
 before long years ago in one of these gambling and 
 drinking fits, and he understood how useless words 
 were. 
 
 And one day Murray put the finishing touch to his 
 course of wicked recklessness. 
 
 He awakened as from a dream to find himself 
 under arrest for being drunk on parade. 
 
 Drunk on parade. Murray was sobered in a 
 moment by the shock of disgrace. Even as he walked 
 slowly away he began to realise everything. It was a 
 very bad business indeed, he knew that. Leave the 
 army he must, there would be no choice now. 
 
 And Sylvia? For the first time he saw in its true 
 colours his behaviour towards this girl he had married, 
 and promised to make happy. 
 
 Crayshaw, whom he met on his way to his room, 
 received a very different greeting from those he had 
 been accustomed to lately. 
 
 " It's all up with me, Crayshaw," Murray said, when 
 he had told him everything in a few hurried, shamed 
 words ; " will you tell Sylvia will you tell her ? " 
 
 Crayshaw was dismayed. It was not a very easy 
 or pleasant task certainly, and he was not, after all, 
 very intimate with his friend's wife. 
 
 " Don't let her hear it from any one else," went on 
 Murray, hurriedly; "there is nothing to be said for me, 
 but you won't use more hard words than you must."
 
 220 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 " But " Crayshaw began. 
 
 Murray interrupted him. 
 
 " Ask her, beg her not to think more hardly of me 
 than she can help. Tell her I must see her she 
 must not refuse to see me after the court-martial. 
 You will go to-day, won't you ? " 
 
 Murray's agitation was the more terrible for being 
 repressed, and Crayshaw did not know how to refuse. 
 
 They parted at Murray's room door, and Crayshaw 
 walked sadly away on his unpleasant errand. 
 
 And as for Murray, he sat in his room, dazed and 
 stunned. It was when the adjutant, greatly disliking 
 his mission, came for his sword, that Murray first 
 thoroughly realised matters. 
 
 When he was alone again he stood still where he 
 was by his window, looking vaguely out into the 
 square without seeing anything. 
 
 Ruined, disgraced, turned out of the army, with 
 unpaid gambling debts, to what amount he knew not. 
 What a fool and a brute he had been ! 
 
 And Sylvia ? Could she ever forgive him, could 
 he expect her to take him back, disgraced as he was ? 
 
 Characteristically, and perhaps naturally, Murray 
 now even exaggerated the extent of his own wrong- 
 doing. 
 
 He thought of Sylvia's cold little face, and her want 
 of comprehension, and sighed heavily. 
 
 He would not allow to himself what a difference a 
 little more kindness, a little more interest, on her part 
 might have made. Murray, whatever his faults, was 
 not the sort of man to shelter himself under a plea of 
 that kind.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 CRAYSHAWS MESSAGE. 
 
 CRAYSHAW was not in at all a happy frame of mind, 
 as he walked up Pembroke Street, on his way to 
 fulfil his friend's difficult request. 
 
 In the first place, he was very unhappy about 
 Murray, who he had always liked better than any man 
 in the regiment, caring for him more than he might 
 have done had he not been such a lonely man him- 
 self. As a young subaltern had once said of the two : 
 " Murray is a very good fellow, but there are lots of 
 men like him in the world, and very few like Cray- 
 shaw." Still Murray had a frank, pleasant manner 
 which made him many friends. 
 
 He had been a very good comrade to Crayshaw 
 too, with all his faults staunch and true ; and with 
 his energy, his high spirits, and his unfailing good- 
 nature, Crayshaw thought the regiment would be 
 very strange and dull without him. 
 
 Perhaps it was as well he had not much time to 
 regret Murray just then, being obliged to exercise 
 his mind with the awkward question of what he was 
 to say to Mrs. Murray. 
 
 How was he to go and announce to a woman he,
 
 222 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 after all, knew only in society that her husband was 
 under arrest for drunkenness ? 
 
 Crayshaw was not naturally bashful, but he walked 
 once or twice backwards and forwards before the 
 house before he could make up his mind to knock. 
 Then when he had done so, he almost hoped Sylvia 
 would be out. 
 
 But no such escape awaited him. He found him- 
 self in the drawing-room, with Sylvia coming to meet 
 him, a little surprised and startled in the long absence 
 of her husband by a morning visit from his friend, 
 before he had at all made up his mind what to say. 
 
 The words " Is anything wrong ? " were on her lips, 
 and would have been a great relief to Crayshaw ; but 
 she restrained them, feeling they would be awkward, 
 if he really only meant to pay her a visit 
 
 Crayshaw could talk no commonplaces just then. 
 He plunged into the subject that had brought him 
 there at once. 
 
 " Mrs. Murray, I have a message to give you from 
 your husband," he said. 
 
 " Is anything the matter ? " exclaimed Sylvia. 
 
 " I am afraid so. At least don't be frightened, he 
 is all right," Crayshaw interrupted himself. 
 
 Sylvia's face hardened at once. If Murray was not 
 ill, she would not display any undue amount of excite- 
 ment about him after his treatment of her. 
 
 " What is it then ? " she said coldly. 
 
 " The fact of the matter is, he is under arrest," said 
 Crayshaw, abruptly. 
 
 Sylvia flushed and started. 
 
 " Under arrest what for ? " she said.
 
 CRA YSHA WS MESS A GE. 223 
 
 Crayshaw tried by a multiplicity of words to put 
 things as well as possible. 
 
 " Well, the truth is you see Murray hasn't been 
 you know yourself, Mrs. Murray, he he is awfully 
 sorry, and hopes you will forgive him. He you 
 know how strict we are about how the officers come 
 on parade, and Murray he wasn't quite sober, to put 
 it plainly, Mrs. Murray." 
 
 There was silence. 
 
 Crayshaw stood looking as if he had been confess- 
 ing his own sins, not Murray's, and Sylvia, after one 
 quick, startled glance at him, did not raise her eyes 
 again. 
 
 " And that means ? What will be done to him ? " 
 she said at last. 
 
 " I am afraid he will have to leave the army," 
 answered Crayshaw, slowly, " but perhaps there will 
 be a court-martial next week." 
 
 " He sent you to tell me this ? " said Sylvia. 
 
 " Yes ; he is miserable, poor fellow. You won't be 
 too hard on him ? " urged Crayshaw. " Won't you 
 give me a message for him ? " 
 
 "If you see him," said Sylvia, slowly "I don't know 
 whether you can see him, but if you do, tell him I 
 shall leave Dublin. That is all." 
 
 " Nothing but that ? " said Crayshaw, anxiously. 
 ' Won't you at least wait till after the court-martial, 
 and see him before you go ? Mrs. Murray, forgive 
 me if I seem rude or presuming, but I know Murray, 
 and I am afraid to think what will become of him if 
 you leave him like that." 
 
 " Very well. Tell him I will wait and see him," said
 
 224 THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA . 
 
 Sylvia, but so coldly that Crayshaw doubted if he had 
 done much good. 
 
 He left her as soon as he could, seeing he could do 
 no more for his friend, and when she was alone, Sylvia 
 burst into angry, frightened tears. 
 
 Her first idea was to go to George at once. She 
 could not stand being alone any longer, and he cared 
 for her he would tell her what to do. With all her 
 theoretical love of independence, Sylvia was very far 
 from liking the reality of it. 
 
 But a few moments' consideration showed even 
 Sylvia the impossibility of her going to Beggars' Bush 
 Barracks in search of George. She must content her- 
 self with writing to him instead. And a very hurried, 
 confused little note was dispatched, begging him to 
 come to her at once. But George was on guard, and 
 consequently unable to obey till next day. 
 
 Sylvia was half wild with loneliness and longing 
 for some one to tell her troubles to by that time, and 
 received him with a fervour of joy which a little 
 alarmed him. He drew back slightly, but Sylvia was 
 not a very observant person, and did not remark the 
 suspicion of coolness in his manner. 
 
 However, he was ready to come and see her as often 
 as she liked, and even, on pressure, to promise not to 
 write home about Murray's arrest. Sylvia took the 
 matter in a personal way which astonished him, and 
 in her shame would have liked, had it been possible, 
 to hide it from all the world ; but instead of that, 
 every one must know sooner or later. 
 
 Sylvia might confine herself for the present to 
 writing to her father offering a visit, but when she
 
 CRAYSHAIVS MESSAGE. 225 
 
 arrived at home, she knew very well her explanation 
 must be given. 
 
 George would have persuaded her to go home at 
 once, but Sylvia was determined to keep the promise 
 she had made to Murray through Captain Crayshaw, 
 and to see him once more. So George paid her 
 almost daily visits, and wrote a poem with mysteri- 
 ously veiled allusions to himself, Sylvia, and Murray, 
 and would have done anything else which was not 
 very troublesome for her, had there been anything 
 else to do. Harry came to see her too, full of hot 
 indignation with Murray, and apologies, serenely 
 accepted by Sylvia, for having ever thought the cool- 
 ness between the husband and wife was her fault. 
 
 Altogether, Sylvia began to feel herself quite a 
 heroine.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 AFTER THE COURT-MARTIAL. 
 
 THAT week passed very slowly to both Sylvia and 
 Murray, and it was a relief even to him when the day 
 of his court-martial arrived. 
 
 George came to tell Sylvia all about it the day 
 before, and that it was his regiment who were to 
 furnish the court-martial, even and this part of it she 
 did not like at all that he was to be one of the officers 
 to try Murray. It seemed to Sylvia a most unpleasant 
 and almost unnatural arrangement, but at least it 
 would enable her to know the result as soon as 
 possible. 
 
 Not that any one had much doubt of the result 
 except Sylvia, who still retained a faint hope, and 
 made George faithfully promise to come to her 
 immediately the court-martial was over. 
 
 As for Murray, he knew very well what to expect, 
 and only longed for it all to be over. 
 
 They were all sorry for him, his five judges, even 
 George. Each of them could remember some pleasant, 
 jovial evening spent with him when he had been in 
 the thick of all the fun. If they had seen less of him 
 
 since his marriage, he had at least been as friendly as 
 
 226
 
 AFTER THE COURT-MARTIAL. 227 
 
 ever when they met, and some of them had been to 
 see him in his new home and been received by Sylvia 
 with all her graciousness. 
 
 But all the same there could be no doubt about the 
 question. 
 
 Murray remained throughout very white and grave, 
 speaking as little as possible, and he gave a sigh of 
 relief when it was all over. 
 
 Crayshaw had not come to the court-martial, but he 
 was waiting about outside to speak to Murray, and, 
 taking him by the arm, he drew him away with him. 
 
 " Come to my room, Murray," he said. 
 
 Murray made neither objection nor resistance, he 
 did not even speak till they reached his companion's 
 rooms, when he drew away a little from Crayshaw, 
 and walked over to the fireplace, where he stood, 
 leaning against the mantelpiece. 
 
 " Well," he said roughly, " it's all up now, so I may 
 go home and hang myself if I like." 
 
 " I suppose you are going home at once ? " said 
 Crayshaw. 
 
 " I don't know," said Murray, shortly. 
 
 " Mrs. Murray will expect you, I am sure," said 
 Crayshaw. 
 
 " Do you think so ? " said Murray, with sudden 
 eagerness. " What did she say to you, Crayshaw, 
 when you saw her ? I want you to tell me everything, 
 exactly." 
 
 " You must remember, when I saw her, she had 
 only just heard she had had no time to think," Cray- 
 shaw began, and then he told Murray as well as he 
 could what Sylvia had said to him.
 
 228 THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA . 
 
 Murray listened eagerly, but without her looks and 
 tones, how could he judge of what hope might be 
 gathered from Sylvia's few words ? 
 
 " I feel as if I scarcely could ask her to forgive me," 
 he said, with a catch in his breath. 
 
 " If it would not be the best thing for her as well as 
 you, you might say that," said Crayshaw, gravely. 
 
 " You do think you are sure it would be the 
 best for her ? " said Murray, anxiously. 
 
 " I am certain of it," returned Crayshaw. 
 
 " The fact is," said Murray, after a pause, " I ought 
 never to have married, Crayshaw. I was not fit to be 
 married. I don't believe you thought I was at the 
 time." 
 
 "Those are subjects on which we do not agree," 
 answered Crayshaw ; " this much I do think, that you, 
 of all people, required to be doubly sure of caring for 
 the girl you married." 
 
 " I doubt if anything would have kept me straight," 
 said Murray ; " I am not very old yet, Crayshaw, but 
 I wish I had married five or six years ago. I believe 
 I could really have cared for a girl then, Crayshaw. I 
 have been an awful brute to her. Unfaithful unkind 
 and the worst of it is, I can't I can't even feel sure 
 of the future." 
 
 " If she forgives you now, Murray, you must never 
 let her repent it," said Crayshaw, earnestly. 
 
 " I will do my best, at any rate," said Murray, in 
 a depressed tone. " It is men like you who should 
 marry, Crayshaw, not fellows like me. I make good 
 resolutions, and then, without thinking, I drink a 
 glass more than is good for me, or yield to a sudden
 
 AFTER THE COURT-MARTIAL. 229 
 
 impulse of passion, and it's all up, and all my 
 resolutions go to the wall. It's just a case of falling 
 back again and again." 
 
 And Murray's voice sank, and he turned away. 
 
 " There is no good talking like this," said Crayshaw, 
 quickly ; " you must make a fresh start now, and not 
 think of what is over and can't be altered, in this 
 morbid way." 
 
 " I have made so many fresh starts," said Murray, 
 with a faint smile. 
 
 " To begin with, you have no business to delay 
 going to your wife," went on Crayshaw ; " she has a 
 right to expect you to go to her at once." 
 
 "To tell you the truth, I am a regular coward 
 about that," said Murray, hesitating. 
 
 " There is no good in putting it off. You will not 
 be content till she has forgiven you," said Crayshaw. 
 
 " Then you think she will forgive me?" said Murray, 
 eagerly. 
 
 " I am sure she will, as she loves you," said Cray- 
 shaw. 
 
 " Then I don't care a d n for anything else ! " 
 exclaimed Murray, with rather an unsteady laugh. 
 " Good-bye, Crayshaw ; you have put some life into 
 me, old man, and thank you for it." 
 
 And he shook his friend's hand warmly. 
 
 " Good-bye, old fellow," returned Crayshaw ; " don't 
 think I have been preaching to you. I have had the 
 luck to have had something to keep me straight, and 
 you haven't, that's all." 
 
 His voice had changed and grown reverent, as it 
 always did when he made any allusion, however
 
 230 THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA . 
 
 remote, to his engagement, and he did not speak 
 again till after a short pause. 
 
 " We shall miss you very much in the regiment, 
 Murray," he said, " and I shall specially miss you." 
 
 " Thanks to my own confounded idiotcy," said 
 Murray ; " but perhaps it is just as well, after all."
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 HIS LAST CHANCE. 
 
 MURRAY walked rapidly through the streets, without 
 allowing himself time for thought or hesitation. 
 
 He did not even pause before putting his latch-key 
 into his door, and turning it, he walked quickly across 
 the hall, and upstairs. 
 
 His head was in a whirl of excitement, and he 
 opened the drawing-room door, his mind full of 
 incoherent, loving thoughts, and perhaps more 
 capable in that moment of really caring for Sylvia 
 than he had ever been before. 
 
 Sylvia and George Egerton were standing by the 
 fire ; she was crying, and he held her hand, and 
 looked down at her tenderly as he talked to her. 
 
 Murray started. In a moment the glamour which 
 the feeling of his own wrong-doing towards her had 
 thrown over Sylvia faded away, and he remembered 
 her as she was, and knew how very impossible was 
 such a reconciliation as he had hoped for. 
 
 The other two had turned round on the opening 
 of the door, but neither of them moved towards 
 Murray ; Sylvia even instinctively drew a little closer 
 to her companion.
 
 232 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 " So it is you, Arthur," she said coldly. 
 
 " Is that all you have to say to me ? " said Murray, 
 slowly. 
 
 " I heard you wanted to see me," answered Sylvia. 
 
 " I do ; and Egerton will excuse me," with a bow 
 to that young man, " if I say I should like to speak 
 to you alone." 
 
 George looked at Sylvia, as if to gather from her 
 what she wanted him to say; but after all, it was 
 difficult to refuse to leave a man's house when he 
 desired you to do so, so he gently drew his hand 
 away from her clinging fingers. 
 
 " Then do our arrangements hold good for to- 
 morrow, Sylvia ? " he said. 
 
 " Certainly they do. Good-bye for the present," 
 said Sylvia, with a defiant look at Murray. 
 
 He stood silently waiting, with compressed lips and 
 lowering brow. 
 
 Surely, in spite of everything, these two had no 
 business to treat him as a nonentity in his own house. 
 
 He politely escorted George to the hall door, and 
 when he returned, all softness had gone out of his 
 face. 
 
 " I am sorry if I have been an interruption, Sylvia," 
 he said coldly, " but may I ask for remember, I am 
 still your husband if it is an elopement you and 
 Egerton are planning for to-morrow ? " 
 
 " You have a great deal of assurance to insult me 
 after all that has passed," said Sylvia ; " if you are 
 anxious to know, I have made up my mind to go 
 home to-morrow, and George has promised to take 
 me there."
 
 HIS LAST CHANCE. 233 
 
 Murray grew white. 
 
 " You are going home ? " he said, and there was 
 a long pause. 
 
 Then Murray made a few steps forward to where 
 Sylvia was standing by the fire, and took her resisting 
 hands in his. 
 
 " My darling, you are not going to throw me off 
 , altogether ? " he said, in low, urgent tones. 
 
 " You can't expect me to live with you after this," 
 said Sylvia, trying to draw away her hands ; but he 
 held them fast. 
 
 He did not speak for a few minutes, struggling to 
 regain self-command. 
 
 " Sylvia," he said at last, steadily enough, " you 
 will at least hear me before you finally decide to 
 grant me no mercy? It is a decision of more than 
 life and death to me, and I have a right to be listened 
 to, at least." 
 
 " I will listen," said Sylvia, nervously ; " I I really 
 don't want to be unkind, Arthur, but " 
 
 He let her hands go, and moving back a few steps, 
 he stood before her with bent head. 
 
 " I have wronged you very much," he said ; " I 
 scarcely have the right to ask you for one more 
 chance, but I do. Oh, my darling ! " and his effort 
 at calmness gave away, " can't you forgive me ? 
 Think, if it is any excuse, however small, for me, that 
 I have never never known a home till I married 
 you. I was sent to school a little chap of nine, and 
 there was no one to care whether I kept straight 
 or not ? And from then, all my life, before I got 
 into the army and after, it has been the same
 
 234 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 plenty of money, and no one to care how I spent 
 it." 
 
 He stopped, looking wistfully at Sylvia, but she 
 did not answer. 
 
 She kept her eyes fixed on the ground, and he 
 tried to see some sign of relenting in her silence. 
 
 "You don't know you don't understand how 
 hard, how desperately hard it is for a fellow like me 
 to keep straight," he went on passionately ; " if there 
 had been any restraint on me if I had even had less 
 money to spend oh, I would give my right hand to 
 blot out some of the years of my life ! " 
 
 " Oh, I am sorry !" said Sylvia, with a sudden sob. 
 
 Murray caught her hands again, kissing them 
 passionately. 
 
 " My darling my darling !'" he cried, " I am not 
 worthy " and his voice broke. 
 
 " It is a great pity," said Sylvia, her quiet tones 
 contrasting strangely with his agitation ; " you ought 
 never to have married me." 
 
 " I ought not I ought not ! " said Murray, with 
 passionate humility ; " but as it is too late Sylvia, 
 can you take me back ? disgraced, with debts, the 
 paying of which shall never touch your comforts, my 
 darling. Give me one chance only one chance 
 more, Sylvia, and with God's help, I will never give 
 you cause to regret it ! " 
 
 " Oh, dear me, haven't I told you it is quite 
 impossible," said Sylvia, a little irritated by his 
 unreasonableness ; " I will forgive you, but if I were 
 to live with you now, I should never have a moment's 
 peace of mind,"
 
 LAST CHANCE. 235 
 
 Her pretty face was a little flushed and troubled, 
 and she shed a few tears, half of pity for herself, half 
 for Murray. 
 
 She was really very sorry for him, but under the 
 circumstances it was impossible to expect that she 
 should be the one to sacrifice herself. It was all his 
 fault and it was undoubtedly he that ought to suffer 
 in consequence. 
 
 Sylvia thought of the loneliness of Murray's estate 
 in Scotland, which he had often described to her, 
 and shuddered at the idea of being thrown almost 
 entirely on his society. Was she to give up for this 
 the pleasures of going home to be pitied, sympathised 
 with, and admired in the character of an ill-used and 
 much-enduring wife, and with constant visits from 
 George to look forward to ? 
 
 It was really too much to expect, and more, far 
 more, than Murray deserved. 
 
 So she cried, and repeated that it was quite 
 impossible. 
 
 But Murray was too desperately in earnest to be 
 easily rebuffed. 
 
 " One more chance only one ! " he pleaded ; " it is 
 my only hope ! For God's sake, don't give me up ! 
 You had better kill me, for you will kill all the good 
 in me you will make a devil of me, fit to curse God 
 to" 
 
 He turned suddenly white, and his voice went, with 
 a quick, choking sob. 
 
 Sylvia was shocked at his irreverence, but he did 
 not give her time to speak. 
 
 Kneeling at her feet, her hands in his, his passion-
 
 236 THE STOR Y OF S YL VIA . 
 
 ately pleading eyes fixed on her face, he tried his last 
 chance with the energy of despair. 
 
 " Do you think there is no responsibility when you 
 hold a man's soul in your power ? Will you answer 
 before God for the wrong you do me, for wrong it will 
 be ? I don't know how to touch you I wish I did ! 
 I appeal to you by all you hold most sacred I 
 appeal to you to have mercy as you hope for mercy, 
 to forgive as you hope to be forgiven ! Will you take 
 me back ? " 
 
 There was a moment's breathless silence. Then 
 Sylvia drew away her hands from Murray's grasp. 
 
 " You frighten me ! " she said piteously. " Why 
 will you be so selfish it is quite impossible ! " 
 
 Murray rose to his feet in dead silence, and with a 
 stunned, hopeless look in his eyes, which gave Sylvia 
 a sudden pang of what she felt to be most unreason- 
 able self-reproach. 
 
 " Really, Arthur, you must understand," she said 
 hurriedly " I forgive you, I am sorry for you ; but 
 you cannot expect me to go away with you among 
 strangers now. I cannot trust you any longer ; I 
 cannot care for you as I used " 
 
 " Don't say any more," said Murray, in a low, 
 strange voice ; " I understand." 
 
 But Sylvia found the silence which succeeded very 
 oppressive. 
 
 " You will stay here to-night ? " she said, with 
 sudden yielding ; but he shook his head. 
 
 "I will go at once," he said unsteadily, and turned 
 away in a vague, hesitating manner which alarmed 
 her.
 
 HIS LAST CHANCE. 237 
 
 She sprang forward and laid her hand on his arm. 
 
 " You will kiss me before you go ? " she said, with 
 quivering lips. 
 
 He put her hand away, but very gently, and looked 
 long and steadily into her face. 
 
 " I can't kiss you," he said, " but I can at least say, 
 God bless and keep you, my poor girl, and forgive 
 me for the trouble I have caused you. Whatever you 
 may hear of me, don't think too hardly of me, my 
 darling." 
 
 Even at that last moment, Sylvia might have 
 yielded, had it not been for the thought of George 
 George, and that exciting, delightful journey to be 
 taken next day under his escort. 
 
 But instead she stood, hesitating and doubtful, 
 while Murray, with one last lingering look, turned 
 and left her. 
 
 She heard the door close behind him with a sudden 
 sinking of heart. She had of her own free will 
 broken her marriage vow, and sent away from her 
 the man for whom she had promised, not six months 
 ago, to forsake all others as long as they both should 
 live. She was very sorry for him indeed, and was it 
 her fault if vague thoughts of George and the excit- 
 ing prospect of her return to Delagherty came very 
 soon to mingle with her regrets. 
 
 As for Murray, he went out into the streets, walking 
 unsteadily, he knew not where.
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 ON THE WA Y HOME. 
 
 SYLVIA was really very unhappy after Murray had 
 left her. She cried heartily, and if she had not had 
 her packing to console her, she would have been 
 thoroughly miserable. 
 
 And the evening seemed to her very long, in spite 
 of it. She thought of Murray a good deal, and she 
 was very sorry for him, which she felt to be magnani- 
 mous after his treatment of her. But, after all, he had 
 brought his troubles on himself, and was it not hard 
 that she, who was not to blame, should suffer too ? 
 
 Yet, somehow, in the absence of George's flatteries 
 and delicately expressed sympathy, Sylvia found 
 herself troubled with some uncomfortable, unreason- 
 able doubts about her own conduct. Why had 
 Arthur said such dreadful things to her, spoken to 
 her so unkindly, as if she had been to blame ? 
 
 So Sylvia went to bed in rather an uncheerful 
 frame of mind. 
 
 However, next morning things looked brighter. 
 George and she were to meet at the Great Northern 
 station at ten o'clock, so she had not much time to 
 spare before starting. Of course the servants knew 
 
 238
 
 ON THE WA Y HOME, 239 
 
 the whole story of Murray's disgrace and Sylvia's 
 parting with him, and there was a sort of mysterious, 
 solemn bustle going on in the house. They were all 
 on Sylvia's side, and tried to show it in every way 
 they could, all except Murray's regimental servant, 
 who had been with him ever since his joining, and 
 had received many kindnesses from him at one time or 
 another. And then he had only to look forward to a 
 return for the present to all the disagreeables of an 
 ordinary private soldier's lot. 
 
 Sylvia did not know what arrangements to make 
 about the house, and finally decided to make none. 
 She would write, she said to herself, and till then 
 things might remain as they were. 
 
 And then her spirits went up with a run when she 
 found herself alone in a railway carriage with George, 
 all her troubles left behind, it seemed to her. 
 It was such fun ! 
 
 " It is just as if we had eloped, George ! " she said; 
 "do you think people will imagine that we have? " 
 
 " I hope not," said George, who did not seem to 
 think this particularly funny. 
 
 " I feel like a bad little schoolboy, who has played 
 truant," said Sylvia, smiling up into her companion's 
 handsome, languid face, " only there is nobody to 
 scold me." 
 
 " And / feel," said George, trying to gaze tenderly 
 at Sylvia through his eyeglass, " like a man who finds 
 himself as happy as he can ever expect to be in this 
 world, and would not care if the next moment were 
 to end it all." 
 
 But if he had thought there was a likelihood of his
 
 240 THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA. 
 
 being taken at his word, perhaps he would not have 
 expressed himself so strongly. 
 
 " That is very like something in one of your last 
 poems," said Sylvia, calmly, " and I can't say that I 
 feel in such a bad way myself." 
 
 " No," said George, " there is not complete 
 sympathy between us yet, but I hope that some 
 day" 
 
 " It is very kind of you, I am sure," said Sylvia, 
 briskly, "but really, if complete sympathy means a 
 wish that I was dead, I would rather decline ! " 
 
 And then seeing that George was much offended, 
 she became humble and caressing in a moment. 
 
 " It is only because it is so funny, so nice, to be 
 running away with you like this," she said soothingly. 
 " You musn't mind my being silly, George. Did you 
 write anything last night ? Do let me hear it?" 
 
 And half the sympathy which she now gave to 
 George, would have soothed away all the rough 
 places in her own home, and kept Murray from 
 outside temptations. 
 
 Altogether it was a delightful journey, and Sylvia 
 was quite surprised to find how soon they reached 
 Delagherty. 
 
 Mr. Alison himself met them at the station. He 
 was certainly rather surprised to see George, and 
 a little perplexed altogether about this sudden visit of 
 Sylvia's. 
 
 " I had hoped Murray would have been able to 
 come with you, Sylvia," he said, naturally enough, 
 but the awkwardness of the question made that young 
 lady colour a little, and George frown.
 
 ON THE WA Y HOME. 241 
 
 And then it was decidedly awkward to meet Mrs 
 Grimshaw on the road, who stopped her carriage to 
 speak to them, and of course asked about Murray, even 
 adding a joking little inquiry as to how Sylvia enjoyed 
 married life. Even Sylvia was aware that she could ' 
 not proceed to inform Mrs. Grimshaw that she did not 
 like it at all, especially when that piece of information 
 would have to be shouted from carriage to carriage; 
 so she only smiled, and said that Murray was 
 very well, exchanging meanwhile a very expressive 
 glance with George, who was being given a seat 
 home. 
 
 He got down at the Elms gate, and then Sylvia 
 felt that the time for explanations could not be put 
 off much longer. 
 
 She did wait till after dinner, however, with due 
 consideration of the comfort of letting it pass without 
 awkwardness, and though Mr. Alison still felt a little 
 puzzled, yet Sylvia was so exactly as usual, that he 
 began to hope this visit meant nothing more than a 
 freak on her part. 
 
 But in due time, when the butler had retired, 
 Sylvia drew her chair round to his side of the table, 
 and without any preliminary remarks, suddenly said, 
 in much the same tone as she might have used in 
 talking of the weather : " Governor, I hope you are 
 glad to see me, for I do not think I shall ever go 
 away any more." 
 
 Her father was duly startled. 
 
 " Sylvia ? " he exclaimed in dismay. 
 
 " Yes, father," said Sylvia, leaning up against him 
 in the caressing way which always embarrassed Mr.
 
 242 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 Alison, who was not given to caresses, " I must tell 
 you all about it. It has been very unhappy." 
 
 And then she told him her story : told it with a 
 few tears, and an increasing perception of her own 
 wrongs. And as she related it, the case seemed very 
 black indeed against Murray. Not that she had any 
 intention of unfairness, but naturally she said nothing 
 of the daily worries, and the aggravation of her 
 obtruded devotion to George. And Mr. Alison was 
 roused to great anger with Murray. 
 
 After all, Sylvia was his child, and her wrongs 
 must be first with him. Still, he could have wished. 
 her to be more reticent in her blame of Murray, and 
 he himself said no word against him, for was he not 
 her husband ? 
 
 " I am very sorry about all this, Sylvia," he said ; 
 " I will speak of it to-morrow. You know, my dear, 
 you are always most welcome here." 
 
 And then he felt that it ought not to have been 
 necessary to tell his only daughter that she was 
 welcome.
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 A GRASS WIDOW, 
 
 GEORGE had his story to tell at the Elms that 
 evening, and from his manner of relating it, his rdle 
 appeared to have been that of guardian angel to 
 a foolish young couple, who could not have got along 
 at all without his assistance. But Floss knew her 
 brother well enough to be aware of the partial 
 light in which he was inclined to view all that con- 
 cerned himself. She was very unhappy about it : 
 her sympathies were with both the culprits, and 
 perhaps she scarcely agreed with George's view of 
 Sylvia as an injured sufferer. 
 
 Was Sylvia blameless ? Fond as she was of her, 
 Floss was too well aware how foolish how very 
 foolish that young lady could be, to feel at all sure 
 of this. 
 
 " Perhaps it is only a quarrel, after all, George," she 
 pleaded. " Is there no chance that it may all come 
 right after awhile ? " 
 
 " Not if Sylvia has any respect for herself," said 
 George. 
 
 But Floss considered herself at liberty to take her 
 own view of the question. 
 
 243
 
 244 THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA . 
 
 She did not go over to see Sylvia till the afternoon 
 of next day. She was anxious to see her, to try 
 and comfort her in her grief, but she had at the same 
 time an awe of intruding on a trouble so great as it 
 seemed to her Sylvia's must be. She even wondered 
 if the girl would be willing to see her or anybody. 
 
 And yet, if she had only known it, Sylvia had pro- 
 jected herself going over to the Elms that afternoon, 
 and had only stayed at home at her father's request. 
 He had come to her before going to business in the 
 morning, and had asked could he do anything for her, 
 in the hope that she would speak of a letter to 
 Murray. It was not till he had waited in vain to see 
 if she would not mention the subject that he had 
 made even this distant allusion to it, and Sylvia only 
 said, " No, thanks ; nothing," without remark. 
 
 Then he had suggested that she had better stay 
 about the grounds for the day, and that they would 
 have a talk in the evening. 
 
 So for once she had obeyed, and found herself very 
 dull in consequence. 
 
 Floss got rather a shock when she saw Sylvia 
 running across the lawn to meet her, looking so 
 exactly as usual. She seemed more than half a 
 child, with her serene violet eyes, her soft dimpled 
 face, and her slight figure. She had a basketful of 
 primroses and bluebells in her hand, and a bunch of 
 them in her hat and jacket made her look quite 
 festive ; altogether she seemed to Floss so utterly 
 unlike what she had expected, that she began to 
 wonder whether, after all, George's story could possibly 
 be true.
 
 A GRASS WIDOW. 245 
 
 " You dear old Floss ! I am so glad to see you ! " 
 exclaimed Sylvia, throwing down her basket, and 
 flinging her arms round the other girl's neck. And 
 then she added in a lower tone : " I suppose George 
 has told you all about it? Come into the garden, 
 and we will sit in the summer-house and talk." 
 
 " Dear Sylvia, I am very sorry," said Floss, hesi- 
 tatingly. What words could she use that would not 
 hurt Sylvia ? 
 
 And then in the summer-house it was Sylvia who 
 did most of the talking, while Floss listened, wonder- 
 ing how she could speak in a way that hurt her only 
 to listen to. 
 
 She tried to let there be no sympathy lacking in 
 her voice when she spoke. 
 
 " Dear Sylvia," she said, "it is all a great trouble, I 
 know, but you will forgive him, will you not ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Sylvia, " poor fellow, I am sure I 
 forgive him." 
 
 " And you will not stay away from him long, I 
 suppose ? " said Floss, hesitating. 
 
 " Floss ! " exclaimed Sylvia, " you don't mean to 
 say you think I ought to go back to him ? " 
 
 " You see, Sylvia," said Floss, softly, " he is your 
 husband." 
 
 " And because of that, am I to submit to anything 
 from him to blame him for nothing? " said Sylvia, 
 sharply. 
 
 " No, perhaps not that," said Floss, flushing with 
 her earnestness, " but to forgive, to stand by him if no 
 one else does it seems to me that is always for the 
 woman, Sylvia."
 
 246 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 To forgive, to stand by him how staunchly Floss 
 felt she could have faced the world in Sylvia's place 
 for any one she loved. 
 
 " It is because you do not understand," said Sylvia, 
 petulantly, pulling a primrose to pieces with restless 
 fingers ; " how could you, when you have never been 
 married ! Is a girl's life to be spoilt because she has 
 married a man who is unsteady ? Would you have 
 me go back to him to be never sure how it might be 
 with him ? " 
 
 " Perhaps I have no right to speak to you like this," 
 said Floss, faltering a little, " but I am so very, very 
 sorry about it all " 
 
 " Just say what you like," said Sylvia, caressingly ; 
 " nobody has more right to say things to me than you." 
 
 But Floss knew very well that this deceptive sweet- 
 ness did not mean that Sylvia would be willing to be 
 disapproved of. 
 
 " Then I am sure quite sure you ought to go back 
 to him," she said, resolutely ; " he needs you more 
 than ever now, when he is unhappy, and has done 
 wrong. Just think how you would blame yourself if 
 worse were to come of this, when you knew that if 
 you had stayed with him it might have been 
 different." 
 
 " Arthur has certainly found a very warm advocate 
 in you," said Sylvia, in a tone of offence. " I do think 
 that, being a girl, and I hope more my friend than 
 his, you might have a little feeling for me ! He is old 
 enough to take care of himself, surely, and at any 
 rate I can't go back to him to be miserable in his 
 horrid place in Scotland and I won't ! "
 
 A GRASS WIDOW. 247 
 
 And then Floss said no more, doubtful whether she 
 was not doing more harm than good. 
 
 But Mr. Alison had also a word to say to his 
 daughter on this subject when he came back from 
 business. She had been on his mind all day, dis- 
 tracting it from account books and loads of timber to 
 an extent which she had never done before during 
 her twenty years of life. He had begun by being 
 wholly indignant with Murray, but after a time it 
 dawned upon him that possibly the wrongs might not 
 be all on his part. At any rate, Sylvia had behaved 
 in a very imprudent manner in this sudden return of 
 hers under George Egerton's escort, and she must 
 certainly go back to Murray, and that before any 
 scandal was aroused if possible. Badly as he had 
 behaved, this was the best, the only possible thing for 
 her to do. She had married the man in spite of 
 opposition, and now she must make the best of it 
 
 But still, Mr. Alison did not wish to be harsh with 
 her. Harshness had brought enough trouble into his 
 life already ; had he been less stern, less proudly 
 resentful fourteen years ago, things might have been 
 different at least, so it had often seemed to him. He 
 would not make the same mistake with his daughter 
 as he had made with his wife. Surely Sylvia would 
 sec reason, surely she still cared for the man she had 
 been so determined to marry ; but if she did not if 
 she persisted in refusing to return, what was he to do? 
 Could he dare to take the responsibility of forcing her 
 to go back to her husband, even if Murray were 
 willing to receive her on such terms ? 
 
 Mr. Alison did not know what he should do, and
 
 248 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 there was no one with whom he could consult. His 
 reserve, which was chiefly the result of shyness and 
 partly of habit, had prevented him from having any 
 friend intimate enough to discuss such a subject with. 
 He did think for a moment of his aunt at Kilberry, 
 but remembering how frail and shaken she was, he 
 put that thought aside. 
 
 He felt that it was rather hard to have this trouble- 
 some daughter for whom, despite her prettiness and 
 her caressing ways, he had never cared as perhaps he 
 ought foisted back on his hands, after having been 
 once, to all appearance, satisfactorily disposed of. 
 
 And when he came home, and found her flitting 
 about the house as pretty, and to all appearance as 
 serene as ever, he began to feel as if the whole 
 episode of her marriage to Arthur Murray must have 
 been a dream. 
 
 It was in vain to expect her to open the subject ; 
 as far as Mr. Alison could see, she seemed to consider 
 that everything necessary had been said the evening 
 before, and that it need not be mentioned again. She 
 talked of the Egertons, lamented the sale of her 
 ponies, and interrupted Mr. Alison once, when he had 
 actually opened his mouth to speak to her about 
 Murray, by an inquiry about the fate of her old 
 fishing-rod, as she wanted to go fishing with George 
 and Billy next day. 
 
 And it was not till she came to him to say good- 
 night that Mr. Alison had managed to screw up his 
 resolution to the point of remonstrance. There would 
 probably be a scene, and there was nothing in the 
 world that he hated more.
 
 A GRASS WIDOW. 249 
 
 " Sylvia," he said, " wait for a moment ; I want to 
 speak to you." 
 
 " If it is anything disagreeable, won't it wait till the 
 morning, Gov. ? " said Sylvia, pleadingly. 
 
 " I had better speak to you now, and get it over. 
 I want to know what you wish me to do about your 
 husband ? " 
 
 " About Arthur ? " said Sylvia, opening her eyes ; 
 " why nothing, Gov. You know I cannot go back to 
 him, and you will not turn me out, will you ? " 
 
 " My dear child," said Mr. Alison, impatiently, " do 
 you imagine you can drop the whole affair in this 
 way ? Do you imagine you can just come home here 
 and live as if you had never been married ? " 
 
 " I don't see why not, I am sure," said Sylvia; " but 
 if there is anything to be settled about money or any- 
 thing of that kind, I suppose you will manage for me, 
 won't you ? " 
 
 " I suppose you know Murray could force you to 
 go back to him if he wished ? " 
 
 " I am quite sure he won't do that," said Sylvia, 
 tranquilly. 
 
 " And I consider you ought to go back to him 
 without any forcing," said Mr. Alison, sharply. 
 
 " Go back to him, when he has disgraced me ! " 
 exclaimed Sylvia. 
 
 " Do you remember what you said to me once 
 when I opposed your marriage with Arthur Murray?" 
 observed Mr. Alison. " You said if he were drunk 
 every night it would make you only the more anxious 
 to be able to look after him." 
 
 " And do you remember what you said in answer,
 
 250 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 Gov. ? " said Sylvia, softly ; " you said, ' My poor 
 child, you don't know what you are talking about.' 
 And I didn't." 
 
 " But still, the thing is done now," said Mr. Alison 
 in a gentler tone; " he is your husband, and you must 
 go back to him, and the sooner you go the better for 
 both of you." 
 
 " You are all against me," said Sylvia, and she 
 began to cry softly " even you, who are my father." 
 
 But though she cried, she yielded not a jot. 
 
 " I can't go back I can't go back ! " was all she 
 would say, till at last her father was driven to give 
 way for the present
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 A DELAGHERTY SCANDAL. 
 
 BY the next day the whole story, with considerable 
 additions, had reached Delagherty, actually rousing 
 Mrs. Carr to the exertion of driving over to the 
 Egertons' in the morning to ascertain the whole truth 
 of the matter from Floss. And when she arrived, she 
 scarcely waited to be seated before beginning upon 
 the subject. 
 
 " Tell me, Floss, is it true, all this disgraceful busi- 
 ness about Sylvia Murray ? " 
 
 And Floss did not know exactly what to say upon 
 the subject. 
 
 Sylvia had said nothing of secrecy to her, and if 
 she persisted in her determination not to return to her 
 husband, all attempts to keep the matter from the 
 knowledge of every one would of course be useless. 
 Still, Floss could not bear to relate even the outline 
 of the story to anybody, above all to Mrs. Carr, who 
 had never forgiven Murray for his desertion of Floss, 
 nor Sylvia for having attracted him. 
 
 " I don't know what you have heard, so how can I 
 tell if it is true ? " she said cautiously. 
 
 " I have heard only too much indeed," said Mrs.
 
 2$2 THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA . 
 
 Carr, sententiously ; " poor girl, I suppose it is in the 
 blood and such a trouble for you, too ! " 
 
 " But I don't know what you are talking about," 
 said Floss, honestly a little perplexed. " What is in 
 the blood, and ^vhat is a trouble for me ? " 
 
 " My dear child, with an old friend like me, and 
 especially when it is half over the place, I don't think 
 you need keep up this affectation of mystery," said 
 Mrs. Carr, huffily. 
 
 " Well, if you will, please tell me what you have 
 heard," said Floss. 
 
 " My dear, I am afraid it is only too true. Why, 
 Mrs. Grimshaw saw Mr. Alison bringing them back 
 with her own eyes ! I dare say your brother wasn't 
 much to blame, if the truth were known ; but I always 
 told you harm would come of having her here so 
 often." 
 
 " What has my brother got to do with it ? " said 
 Floss, desperately. "I suppose you mean George, 
 but I really don't understand." 
 
 " Do you mean to tell me, Floss, that Sylvia Murray 
 didn't run away with your brother George," said Mrs. 
 Carr, solemnly, " and that her father hadn't to follow 
 and bring her back ? And it is not more than six 
 months since her marriage, too ! " 
 
 " But I do mean to say that she not only didn't run 
 away with George, but never dreamt of such a thing ! " 
 exclaimed Floss. " She was coming home, and so 
 was George, and, considering that they have known 
 each other all their lives, I really think it was very 
 natural he should look after her on the way down." 
 
 " Oh, of course, if you choose to deny it " said
 
 A DELAGHERTY SCANDAL. 253 
 
 
 
 Mrs. Carr, with displeasure. " Perhaps you don't 
 know that she and your brother have been the talk 
 of the military set in Dublin for some time, and that 
 there have been a good many prophecies of this kind 
 of ending. Perhaps it isn't true that all this has 
 caused Mr. Murray to leave the army ? " 
 
 " Mr. Murray has left the army, but not for any 
 reason like that," said Floss, colouring ; " and Sylvia 
 is at home at present, while Mr. Murray has not 
 settled where he will live and that is really the whole 
 foundation for this horrid gossip." 
 
 And this was strictly true as to words, at least. 
 
 But Mrs. Carr was quite unconvinced : she would, 
 of course, have denied an unwillingness to believe that 
 such an exciting bit of scandal, and one which so en- 
 tirely fulfilled her own prophecies, was unfounded. 
 
 "And do you mean to say that there is nothing 
 between her and George ? " she said. 
 
 And before Floss could answer, a most unfortunate 
 thing happened. 
 
 Sylvia and George, sublimely unconscious of the 
 presence of any one, came into the room, Sylvia 
 following George, after a dog-like fashion peculiar 
 to her when with him. " We will be alone here, any- 
 way," said Sylvia, who was the last to perceive that 
 any one was there. 
 
 Now this meant no more than that George had a 
 new poem he was most anxious to read to his ever 
 appreciative listener ; but, not unnaturally, Mrs. Carr 
 took it up very differently indeed. She bestowed a 
 most chilling glance on the culprits, during which 
 George shook hands with her with serene indifference.
 
 254 THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA . 
 
 
 Sylvia certainly fully reciprocated Mrs. Carr's dislike, 
 
 and if she had known she was in the drawing-room 
 would carefully have avoided her ; but it was not in 
 her nature to be anything but agreeable to everybody, 
 and she went up to that lady with quite an air of 
 empressement, and with a most friendly smile upon 
 her pretty, childish face. 
 
 Mrs. Carr had never been warm in her reception of 
 Sylvia, but still there was no mistaking her present 
 manner. She just touched the tips of Sylvia's fingers, 
 keeping at the furthest possible distance, as if she 
 feared lest she, a virtuous wife, should receive con- 
 tamination from her approach. 
 
 " How is Mr. Murray ? " she said icily, and having 
 asked what she considered the most embarrassing 
 question possible, she scarcely waited for a reply 
 before turning her back on the girl, and devoting all 
 her attention to Floss in the most marked manner she 
 could assume. 
 
 It was some few minutes before Sylvia understood. 
 Floss could see the different changes of astonishment, 
 perplexity, offence, and dismay passing over her face, 
 and then she turned to George, flushing all over with 
 anger and shame. Her bow was quite as stiff as Mrs. 
 Carr's when that lady rose to say good-bye, empha- 
 sising her coldness to Sylvia by kissing Floss warmly. 
 
 Floss, in her indignation for Sylvia, left it to George 
 to see her visitor to her carriage, whereas on another 
 occasion she would have gone as well. 
 
 And that lady, though her courage seldom failed 
 her, did not feel equal to attack the languid young 
 man, who made no attempt to rouse himself from the
 
 A DELAGHERTY SCANDAL. 255 
 
 contemplation of his very smart yellow boots through 
 his eyeglass, to bestow anything beyond the most 
 absolutely necessary attention upon her. 
 
 All Sylvia said about her was : " I do think Mrs. 
 Carr is the most disagreeable woman in existence ! " 
 
 And then, while Floss was meditating a remon- 
 strance with much doubt for, after all, Sylvia was a 
 married woman, and George was not a boy the two 
 departed together in the most matter-of-course way in 
 the world. 
 
 Floss looked after them in perplexity : if it was 
 innocence, Sylvia had no business to be as innocent 
 as that ; if it was determined indifference in any 
 case, George was to blame. Floss did not follow 
 them herself just then, but she sent Billy after them 
 as a kind of chaperon, being aware that that youth 
 was not particularly thin-skinned, nor likely to fancy 
 himself in the way. 
 
 As long as they kept in the grounds it was not so 
 bad, but Floss knew Sylvia and George too well to 
 feel at all sure what their next proceedings would be.
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 BEYOND CONTROL. 
 
 IF Mrs. Carr had not been able to make up her mind 
 to speak to George on the subject of his relations with 
 Sylvia, she had not at all the same hesitation with 
 Mr. Egerton, senior, who was by no means such an 
 imposing person as his gifted son. 
 
 She met him the very next day on the Delagherty 
 road, sauntering leisurely home from his club, and 
 proceeded immediately to disturb the unlucky man's 
 comfort for at least the next hour or so. 
 
 She was driving, but her carriage was at once 
 ordered to stop, and Mr. Egerton had the delinquencies 
 of his son and Mrs. Murray, and her undesirableness 
 as a companion for Floss, poured into his ear in a 
 mysterious whisper. After all, she need scarcely 
 have taken the trouble to whisper, as her coachman 
 knew quite as much of the subject as she did, if not 
 more. 
 
 Mr. Egerton was very much annoyed. Why on 
 earth hadn't George married Sylvia long ago, if he 
 had wanted to, when, putting everything else aside, 
 her money would have made her a most acceptable 
 
 daughter-in-law to Mr. Egerton ? He had had the 
 
 256
 
 BEYOND CONTROL. 257 
 
 chance, and as he had not chosen to take it, there 
 was really no excuse for his proceeding to make a 
 scandal in Delagherty. 
 
 So having succeeded in making himself very angry 
 before he reached home, he relieved his feelings by 
 scolding Floss. 
 
 " If you had a little more thoughtfulness and con- 
 sideration," he said, " you would see that it doesn't do 
 to have the girl over here so often. It's disgraceful 
 to have this sort of gossip going on, and I won't have 
 you mixed up in it ; do you hear ? " 
 
 " Yes, papa," said Floss, sadly, " it is the greatest 
 pity ; but I don't know what to do. I don't like to 
 tell Sylvia that she is not to come over here as she 
 has done all her life, and that might only make people 
 talk worse after all ; and then George will be away 
 after awhile." 
 
 " I don't mean anything of that kind, as you know 
 perfectly well, Floss," said Mr. Egerton, impatiently. 
 " Can't you give her a quiet hint not to come over so 
 often, or go about with her yourself when she is here 
 or something ? Dear me, I thought' a woman was 
 always able to manage those kind of little things ! 
 Or George might go away surely his leave must be 
 nearly up ? " 
 
 " I am afraid he has a fortnight, papa," said Floss. 
 " Bless me ! a fortnight ! It's positively disgraceful 
 the amount of idle time those young fellows have 
 enough to ruin them for life ! " said Mr. Egerton, 
 who certainly ought to have been a judge, as he had 
 never done a stroke of work in his life, " and only 
 three days of it gone. He must be spoken to 
 
 18
 
 258 THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA . 
 
 George must be spoken to. Surely he has some 
 friends he can visit?" 
 
 "Yes, I do wish you would speak to him," said 
 Floss, anxiously. " You so seldom blame him for 
 anything, that I am sure he would heed it from you." 
 
 " / speak to him ! " said Mr. Egerton, in dismay. 
 " I couldn't possibly speak to him it would come 
 very badly from me. No, no, it would not do at all ; 
 it would be making far too much of it. No, you are 
 the proper person a little hint from you would come 
 very much better indeed ! " 
 
 " Oh, papa ! " said Floss, " it is you who are the 
 proper person it is indeed ! George would not 
 think anything of it from me ; he would only be angry, 
 and say I was interfering. Indeed, indeed, papa, it 
 would be much better if you would speak to him ! " 
 
 " Perhaps you will allow that I know a little more 
 of the world than you do," said Mr. Egerton, pom- 
 pously. " I assure you that a remonstrance from me 
 would give the matter far too great importance, while 
 from you " 
 
 And Floss knew her father well enough to be 
 aware that there was no use in persisting. Mr. 
 Egerton had always excellent reasons for declining 
 to do anything disagreeable, and having once estab- 
 lished them to his own satisfaction, he would be con- 
 tent to repeat them as long as Floss wanted to discuss 
 the subject. 
 
 So, as there was no one else to do it, Floss did 
 make up her mind to say something to George, and a 
 few lines in a letter which came from Harry the next 
 morning confirmed her in this intention.
 
 BEYOND CONTROL. 259 
 
 " I suppose Sylvia has given you her own version 
 of her split with Murray ? " he wrote. " He certainly 
 did behave very badly, and there was a very disgrace- 
 ful scene, but still Sylvia needn't try to make herself 
 out an injured saint. She and George have been 
 enough to drive any man mad ever since I came to 
 Dublin." 
 
 And after reading this, Floss did gain courage to 
 speak to her brother, and received a snub for her 
 pains, as she had expected. 
 
 " Gossip ! " exclaimed George, picturesquely tossing 
 back his hair. " If vulgar minds choose to take up 
 things in that way, I can't help it, and I don't care. 
 Neither does Sylvia." 
 
 " No, but she ought to care, and so should you, for 
 her sake," said Floss. " I dare say I have got a vulgar 
 mind, George, but it does not seem to me very nice 
 for you to be always anxious to be alone together ; 
 and if you must write poetry, I really think you might 
 manage it without her assistance." 
 
 " It is the way of the world," said George, sadly ; 
 " friendship between man and woman is always mis- 
 construed." 
 
 " Now, George, do you mean to tell me that if your 
 friendship was with a man, you would wish to be 
 always alone with him ? " said Floss. 
 
 " If such friendship as ours were possible between 
 man and man, I should," said George, sententiously. 
 
 " Oh, George, you vex me so ! " said Floss ; " won't 
 you think of Sylvia, and go away for a time for her 
 sake, if you are so fond of her." 
 
 " My dear Floss, you must admit that I have
 
 260 THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA. 
 
 listened to you very patiently," said George with 
 dignity, "but, I must say, it is a subject I am not 
 prepared to discuss with you. Believe me, Sylvia 
 and I are quite capable of managing our own affairs ; 
 and, in fact, this is hardly the conversation for a 
 young girl " 
 
 Poor Floss began to feel as if she had done some- 
 thing dreadfully indelicate. 
 
 " But, papa says " she began, making a last effort. 
 
 " My dear girl, whatever my father wishes to say 
 to me, he can surely say himself," said George, who 
 knew just as well as his sister that Mr. Egerton would 
 certainly never say anything to him. 
 
 Floss was silenced, if not convinced. 
 
 And Sylvia continued to come over to the Elms 
 and spend the day with George and Billy as con- 
 tentedly as if she had entirely forgotten the fact of 
 her marriage. 
 
 Of course people talked in Delagherty it was 
 many a long day since there had been anything so 
 interesting to discuss. As for Sylvia, she went 
 placidly on her way, apparently unconscious of caus- 
 ing perplexity to any one, or at any rate completely 
 indifferent to the fact. But at last there was some- 
 thing that she did mind. 
 
 Mrs. Carr sent out invitations for a small dance, and 
 among those invitations one for Sylvia was not 
 included. It was certainly a marked proceeding to 
 omit such very near neighbours, and it was meant to 
 be marked. 
 
 Everybody else about Delagherty was asked, and 
 most of them accepted, while they grumbled at the
 
 BEYOND CONTROL. 261 
 
 inconvenient time that had been selected. A little 
 later, and there would have been the militia to supply 
 dancing men ; a little earlier, and there would at least 
 have been a few stray individuals who were home for 
 Easter : but as it was, there would certainly be a 
 superfluity of girls. It is just possible that a desire 
 to administer a wholesome reproof to Sylvia had 
 something to do with Mrs. Carr's disregard for these 
 things, and certainly if she had wished to annoy that 
 young lady she had succeeded thoroughly. Sylvia 
 was extremely disconsolate.
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 UNCERTAINTY. 
 
 IF Sylvia was quite content with the present state 
 of affairs, her father certainly was not Poor Mr. 
 Alison's responsibilities with regard to her weighed 
 very heavily upon his mind, and he found it very 
 difficult to decide what was the best thing to do. 
 Every morning he said to himself that he really must 
 speak to Sylvia in the evening, and every evening he 
 decided to put it off till next day. She was not in 
 the mood for serious conversation, or some of the 
 Egertons were over, or there was always some 
 objection, and perhaps the greatest was that he did 
 not know at all what he meant to say to her. 
 
 So it came about that nearly a fortnight passed 
 before he spoke to her again on the subject, and then 
 something happened that made it necessary for him 
 to speak at once. 
 
 There came a letter from Crayshaw to Mr. Alison 
 only a line, enclosing one from Murray. Crayshaw's 
 was very short and to the point. 
 
 " DEAR MR. ALISON," he wrote, " I enclose a letter 
 262
 
 UNCERTAINTY. 263 
 
 from Murray. I shall be very glad if I can be of 
 any use. 
 
 " Yours very truly, 
 
 "J. D. CRAYSHAW." 
 
 And Murray's was not much longer. 
 
 " DEAR CRAYSHAW, Will you write to Mr. Alison, 
 and see what arrangements Sylvia would prefer for 
 the future. I should wish her to live with her father, 
 and I suppose she would prefer this herself. She has 
 Soo a year settled upon her at my death, and I am 
 willing for her to have it at once. She can make 
 what other arrangements she pleases and communicate 
 with my solicitors. I am thinking of the Turkish 
 army, but I can't say I have made any settled plans 
 as yet. 
 
 " Yours ever, 
 
 " MURRAY." 
 
 And these letters decided Mr. Alison to speak to 
 Sylvia at once. 
 
 He found her in the garden, very comfortably estab- 
 lished in a lounging-chair, waiting for George, who 
 had promised to come over that morning. But despite 
 this prospect of felicity, Mrs. Murray was in rather a 
 disconsolate frame of mind. In the first place, Mrs. 
 Carr's dance was coming off that night, then George's 
 leave would be up next day, and finally, Sylvia was 
 conscious of a coolness in Floss's reception of her the 
 day before, which had vexed her a good deal. 
 
 She was surprised to see her father, for it was past 
 his hour for going to Delagherty.
 
 264 THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA . 
 
 " Sylvia," he said gravely, " these letters came this 
 morning, and I should like you to see them." 
 
 " Oh from Arthur ! " said Sylvia, flushing a little, 
 and bestowing only a glance on Crayshaw's note. 
 
 She would have liked her father to go away and 
 leave her, but this he had not the smallest intention 
 of doing. Instead, he watched her face, trying to 
 gather her feelings from it. 
 
 And when she came to the end, she gave a little 
 cry of dismay. 
 
 " Oh, father ! " she said, " the Turkish army ! Does 
 that mean going to Turkey ? " 
 
 " Of course it does," said Mr. Alison, " and the very 
 best thing under the circumstances, I think." 
 
 Then he was astonished to see Sylvia's eyes fill 
 with sudden tears. 
 
 Great as was his horror of scenes, he was pleased to 
 see that she was perhaps, after all, not as indifferent 
 as she seemed. 
 
 "To Turkey!" she repeated, with a sob in her 
 voice; "oh, I don't want him to go to Turkey ! " 
 
 " Well, it rests with you to prevent it," said Mr. 
 Alison, beginning to think that things looked most 
 hopeful. 
 
 " Do you think he would not go if I were to write 
 and say I would not like it ? " said Sylvia, eagerly. 
 '' I don't see why he need go so far away." 
 
 " I am sure he will not go if you write and say that 
 you are willing to go back to him," said Mr. Alison ; 
 but from the change in her face, he saw he had gone 
 too far. 
 
 " No, I can't do that," she said, shaking her head
 
 UNCER TAINT Y. 265 
 
 with a sigh. "If it was not to Scotland but he 
 should not go so far ; you see, if I were ill, or any- 
 thing happened " 
 
 " If you won't live with the man, you can't expect 
 him to hang round England in hopes of illness or 
 accidents," said Mr. Alison, sharply ; " besides which, 
 it would be utter ruin for him. No, you have your 
 choice now, and you had better be very sure of your 
 own mind before you make it, for you decide the 
 lives of two people." 
 
 " Oh, I don't want never to see him again," said 
 Sylvia, in a troubled voice. For the first time she 
 realised everything. Never to see Murray again, 
 probably never as long as she lived. Never to hear 
 him say he loved her, perhaps to have the remem- 
 brance of her soon grow indifferent to him. After all, 
 would she ever find any one to care for her as Murray 
 cared Murray, who, if he ever blamed her for any- 
 thing, was so easily won round by a few caressing 
 words ? 
 
 No, George was not at all the same thing. When 
 with him, it was he, not she, who was on a pinnacle 
 of superiority. Everything seemed rosy about her 
 life with Murray now, even their quarrels everything 
 except that dreadful estate in Scotland, with no neigh- 
 bours except the clergyman's family. 
 
 " After all," said Sylvia, suddenly, looking up hope- 
 fully, " why should he go away ? Why should he not 
 get something in England, and he could even, per- 
 haps, come over and see ine sometimes 
 
 " Sylvia, you are talking utter nonsense ! " said Mr. 
 Alison, sharply ; " if you won't live with the man as
 
 266 THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA. 
 
 his wife, you can't have him coming to see you like 
 an ordinary acquaintance. And as for getting some- 
 thing to do in England, a man can't set to work to 
 learn a new profession at his age not to say that he 
 would start with a great disadvantage in England. 
 No, no, make up your mind ; there can be no half 
 measures, and you will have nobody to blame but 
 yourself if you are very sorry for what you have done 
 some day." 
 
 " I can't go back to him," said Sylvia, with obstinate 
 sweetness. 
 
 Her father was very angry. 
 
 " Very well ; have your own way," he said shortly. 
 And thenhe left herin a decidedly dismal frameof mind. 
 
 George found her still immensely depressed when 
 he came upon the scene half an hour later, and 
 naturally set it down to the dance. 
 
 He did not personally care about dances in the 
 least, and bestowed a pitying contempt upon Sylvia's 
 feelings on the subject. 
 
 " Well, Sylvia ; not got an invitation from Mrs. 
 Carr yet ? " he said, throwing himself into a pictur- 
 esque attitude against the trunk of the apple-tree 
 under which she was sitting. 
 
 " I am very likely to get one at this eleventh hour, 
 or to accept it if I did," said Sylvia. 
 
 " It is a great pity," said George, with condescend- 
 ing regret. 
 
 And Sylvia felt that her lot was indeed a hard one 
 at present, with one trouble following upon another 
 in this way. 
 
 " I should like to have gone to-night," she said.
 
 UNCERTAINTY. 267 
 
 " Look here, Sylvia," said George, softly, " Mrs. 
 Carr may say what she likes, but I am not going near 
 her dance to-night. I think it is a great shame for 
 her not to have asked you, and I am not going to 
 spend my last night away from you. I will come 
 over here for the evening, instead." 
 
 " Yes, do come," said Sylvia, but without appearing 
 to become much less disconsolate. 
 
 " And won't that be a pleasanter way of spending 
 our last evening, after all ? " said George. 
 
 But Sylvia could not truthfully agree to this. 
 
 "You see, George, a dance ! " she said apologeti- 
 cally. 
 
 " I must say, I did not think you would care so 
 much," he said, in a half-offended tone. 
 
 But in truth, his presence had not been one of 
 Sylvia's attractions to this dance. Platonic friend- 
 ship notwithstanding, she would have been far from 
 desirous to devote her evening to George, whose 
 dancing was not by any means above criticism, but 
 who was far too touchy upon the subject to endure 
 any suggestions.
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 MR. ALISON AND CRA YSHA W. 
 
 " I AM going to Dublin to-morrow to see Captain 
 Crayshaw, and make a few necessary business arrange- 
 ments," said Mr. Alison, meeting Sylvia on the stairs 
 that evening on her way to dress for dinner. 
 
 But if he had expected to elicit any further display 
 of feeling from the girl, he was mistaken. 
 
 " Thank you, father," she said, and that was all. 
 She did not even ask what arrangements he intended 
 to make. 
 
 But that evening George found her in unusually 
 low spirits, in a frame of mind that would have 
 offended him mightily if he had been obliged to set 
 it all down to the dance. But then, what was more 
 natural than that she should be sad on the eve of his 
 return to Dublin ? Poor little soul ! It would be 
 very dull for her. 
 
 " I will get leave, and run down for a couple of 
 days, very soon," he said. 
 
 They were standing together by the drawing-room 
 window, and the moment for saying good-bye had 
 
 almost come. George was to go up by the early train 
 
 268
 
 MR. ALISON AND CRA YSHA W. 269 
 
 next morning, so they would not meet again. Sylvia 
 started when he spoke to her. 
 
 " You will come down oh yes," she said absently. 
 
 "And if you are worried or bothered, you must 
 write to me and depend on me," pursued George, softly. 
 
 " And you think I am right to refuse to go back to 
 Arthur ? " said Sylvia. 
 
 Both of them characteristically followed out their 
 own lines of thought, and just at present these lines 
 were very wide apart. 
 
 " If you have any self-respect," said George, " you 
 will not lower yourself in such a way." 
 
 " I wish it was not all such a worry," she said, 
 piteously. 
 
 And then Mr. Alison unconscionably proceeded to 
 make his appearance in his own drawing-room, and 
 what was more, this unreasonable man remained there 
 till George took his departure, apparently quite un- 
 conscious of being in any way de trop. But in truth 
 poor Mr. Alison was only too well aware of his un- 
 welcomeness, which the others, to do justice to their 
 sincerity, took no special pains to conceal. It was 
 infinitely more disagreeable to him than it was to 
 them to sit there endeavouring to make conversation, 
 and it was a case of virtue being its own reward, for 
 certainly neither of the other two were at all grateful 
 to him for his late awakening to a sense of the 
 proprieties. And he might almost as well have 
 remained comfortably in the dining-room for all the 
 good he did. 
 
 " I am very sorry you are going, George," said 
 Sylvia, when that young man rose to say good-bye ;
 
 270 THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA . 
 
 " I shall miss you immensely, and you must write to 
 me very soon, and " Here she lowered her voice, 
 and the end of the sentence was quite inaudible to 
 Mr. Alison. 
 
 And she would have said no more if Mr. Alison 
 had not been present, though it is possible George 
 might have done so. 
 
 Next day, George and Mr. Alison both departed 
 for Dublin, leaving Sylvia in a most disconsolate frame 
 of mind. Her return to Delagherty somehow had not 
 fulfilled her dreams. No one seemed to sympathise 
 with her properly, or even understand how badly 
 Arthur had behaved to her. Every one, even Floss, 
 seemed to look upon her coolly, and Sylvia was the 
 very last person in the world to whom such a state 
 of affairs was endurable. 
 
 George and Mr. Alison travelled up to Dublin in 
 the same carriage, with much mutual civility and a 
 great deal of mutual dislike. They parted at the 
 Great Northern station, and Mr. Alison, having 
 disposed of his luggage at the Shelbourne, drove down 
 to the Royal Barracks to see Crayshaw. He was not 
 in, so Mr. Alison was obliged to content himself with 
 leaving a note for him inviting him to dinner that 
 evening, and on his way back he met Captain Atterly 
 in the barrack square. It was rather awkward for 
 both men, but they simply exchanged a few words, 
 and Captain Atterly said he hoped Mr. Alison would 
 dine at mess on the next guest night, if he were still 
 in Dublin. And then Mr. Alison went on his way, 
 and found the hour before he could expect Crayshaw 
 rather hard to dispose of.
 
 MR. ALISON AND CRA YSHAW. 271 
 
 When he did come, neither of them wasted any 
 time in preliminaries. 
 
 " I have come to see you on unpleasant business, 
 Captain Crayshaw," said Mr. Alison. " I am anxious 
 to have your opinion on what is best to be done." 
 
 He found it much easier to speak to a stranger like 
 Crayshaw than he would have done to enter on the 
 subject with any of his friends. 
 
 As for Crayshaw, he felt his position to be a little 
 awkward. 
 
 " I sent you Murray's letter," he said, with some 
 hesitation. 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Alison, " and if nothing better can 
 be done, his proposals will have to be considered. 
 But I am very unwilling to believe in the impossibility 
 of a reconciliation. Do you think Murray could not 
 be induced to consider this ? " 
 
 " I have heard nothing from Murray, except the 
 letter I sent you, since he left ; but the last time I saw 
 him after after the court-martial I know he was 
 most willing and anxious to do his best to gain your 
 daughter's forgiveness. I believe he will make no 
 difficulties in agreeing to whatever she wishes." 
 
 " That is just my difficulty," said Mr. Alison. " I 
 really haven't the least idea what she does wish! She 
 says she won't go back to him, and yet she seemed 
 awfully hurt at the idea of his leaving the country. 
 I fancy if Murray were to come over to see her " 
 
 " I don't think he will do that, Mr. Alison, unless 
 he is assured that she wishes it," said Crayshaw, 
 gravely. 
 
 " Then I am sure I don't know what is best to be
 
 272 THE S TOR Y OF SYL VIA . 
 
 done. I suppose I shall have to go over to London 
 and see Murray myself," said Mr. Alison, with a sigh. 
 
 " If," said Crayshaw, " I could be of any use " 
 
 " You are very kind," said Mr. Alison, a little stiffly, 
 " but" 
 
 " It is not kindness at all. I shall only be too glad 
 to do anything for Murray. You may find it hard to 
 believe just now, Mr. Alison, but Murray is a good 
 fellow in spite of all." 
 
 " I am glad to hear you say so very glad," said 
 Mr. Alison ; " for I must say I have sometimes 
 doubted whether we may be doing either of them a 
 kindness in attempting to bring them together again ; 
 but then" 
 
 "I hope and believe Murray will give your daughter 
 no reason to repent," said Crayshaw. And then a 
 waiter made his appearance to announce that dinner 
 was ready. 
 
 " Then can I be of any use in going over to 
 London for you?" said Crayshaw, pausing at the 
 door. 
 
 " I am ashamed to trouble you so far," said Mr. 
 Alison, but his relief was unmistakable. What could 
 he of all people have said to this ill-conducted son- 
 in-law of his, whom he knew so slightly ? 
 
 " As to trouble, it is none," said Crayshaw. " I will 
 get a week's leave and take a trip up to town, and I 
 will write to you as soon as I have seen Murray." 
 
 " I shall be very much obliged to you," was all Mr. 
 Alison's answer, and being a man of few words, he 
 meant what he said.
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 CRA YSHA W AND MURRA Y. 
 
 CRAYSHAW went straight to Murray's solicitors on 
 his arrival in London, but they could not give him 
 his address ; neither did they know anything about 
 him at his clubs, and it was more by good luck than 
 anything else that he ran across him at one of the 
 theatres that night. Had Mr. Alison gone to 
 London as he had contemplated doing, his search 
 might probably have been indefinitely prolonged, and 
 Crayshaw himself had begun to fear that a few days 
 of his short leave might be wasted before he found 
 his friend. 
 
 He was extremely glad that it was he, and not Mr. 
 Alison, who had met Murray, when he perceived the 
 rowdiness of the party to which he belonged, and the 
 unshaven and generally disreputable appearance of 
 the young man himself. 
 
 Crayshaw made his way round to him on the first 
 opportunity, and his appearance had a decidedly 
 sobering effect on Murray. 
 
 " Hullo, Crayshaw ! " he said, with a feeble attempt 
 at defiance; "didn't expect to see you here, old fellow. 
 Like to be introduced ? " 
 
 19 2 73
 
 274 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 " I have got news from home for you, Murray," 
 said Crayshaw. " I am putting up at the Metropole, 
 and, unless you want to see this thing out, you may 
 as well come home with me." 
 
 " Come and see you to-morrow," suggested Murray. 
 
 " I'd sooner it was to-night, if you can manage it," 
 said Crayshaw. He knew that if he once succeeded 
 in rousing Murray's spirit of opposition his chance 
 for the evening was gone. 
 
 "Well, I'm not going for half an hour or so, anyway," 
 said Murray, uneasily. 
 
 " All right, I'm in no hurry, and I don't mind stop- 
 ping to see this out." And with a nod to Murray, he 
 returned to his former seat. But he could see that 
 Murray was very far from comfortable. He had 
 insisted on remaining out of sheer bravado, but he 
 could not return to his former interest either in his 
 companions or in the performance. Presently he 
 came over to Crayshaw of his own accord. 
 
 " I've had enough of this rot now, if you have," he 
 said. " Nothing wrong in Ireland ? " 
 
 " I will tell you all about it when we get home," 
 said Crayshaw, cruelly. 
 
 He knew quite well he was cruel, but he would 
 not risk the loss of Murray's interest and willingness 
 to go home with him. So they took a hansom and 
 drove to the Metropole, and until they were in Cray- 
 shaw's room neither said a word. Then Murray sank 
 wearily into a chair, and Crayshaw saw he looked very 
 white and ill. Crayshaw did not turn up the gas. 
 
 " Would you care for anything, Murray ? " he said, 
 seating himself a little way off.
 
 CRA YSHA W AND MURRA Y. 275 
 
 " I shouldn't object to a whisky and soda.," said 
 Murray, shortly. 
 
 Crayshaw saw very well that he had had quite as 
 much of that kind of refreshment as was advisable 
 for him ; however, he rang the bell, and ordered 
 what his companion wanted. And after this, Murray's 
 state of utter, silent depression seemed to vanish. 
 
 " If you have come to hold forth to me on my sins, 
 Crayshaw," he said excitedly, " I won't stand it do 
 you hear ? " 
 
 " I did come over partly to see you," said Crayshaw. 
 "When I heard you were thinking of leaving the 
 country, I thought I should like to have a few days 
 with you first. Have you settled anything about the 
 Turkish army ? " 
 
 " No, I have settled nothing." 
 
 " I am glad of that, because I should like to have 
 a talk with you before you do settle anything." 
 
 " There is no use in talking," said Murray, roughly ; 
 " you'd better let me go the devil in peace, for you 
 can't prevent it only one person could have pre- 
 vented it " 
 
 " That is what I want to talk to you about," said 
 Crayshaw ; " the one person who can prevent it " 
 
 " I didn't say can, I said could have prevented it," 
 -said Murray, irritably. " You needn't talk to me about 
 reconciliations or things of that kind, if that is what 
 you mean ; if I wasn't fit for her then, do you think 
 
 I am fit for her now? D it all, leave me in 
 
 peace ! " 
 
 And Crayshaw saw there was nothing to be gained 
 by talking to Murray just then.
 
 276 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 " You'll stop here to-night, won't you ? " he said, 
 and Murray, though a little suspicious that Crayshaw 
 might have ulterior designs beyond the desire for his 
 company, was too tired and dazed to make much 
 opposition. 
 
 In the morning he was quite in a different frame of 
 mind. Crayshaw sent up a waiter to tell him that 
 breakfast was ready, and a few minutes later he came 
 down, much improved in appearance since the night 
 before. For one thing he had shaved, and brushed 
 his hair, which was certainly still long enough to 
 make him very unlike the invariably spruce and 
 carefully got up Mr. Murray of the Black Watch. 
 
 Crayshaw had ordered their breakfast in a private 
 room, and he was there, reading the paper, and 
 waiting for him. 
 
 That any of that breakfast was eaten was due to 
 Crayshaw ; Murray scarcely did more than allow 
 himself to be helped to everything, and then cut it up 
 into small pieces with his knife and fork. 
 
 "You wouldn't be surprised that I'm not up to 
 much of a breakfast if you knew how I have spent 
 my time lately, since how long is it since I left 
 Dublin ? " he said with a faint smile. 
 
 Crayshaw was afraid he had a very good idea how 
 his time had been spent. 
 
 " I'm sorry to see you look so seedy, old fellow," 
 he said. 
 
 " How are they at home ? " said Murray, with some 
 hesitation ; " didn't you tell me last night you had a 
 message for me from there ? " 
 
 " Mr. Alison came up to Dublin to see me," said
 
 CRA YSHA W AND MURRA Y. 277 
 
 Crayshavv ; " he was very anxious that everything 
 should be brought right." 
 
 " I don't know quite what I said to you last night, 
 but I have a notion I was infernally disagreeable," 
 said Murray. " At any rate, I have been thinking it 
 over this morning, and I know I would give my 
 right hand to have things straight with Sylvia. But 
 then, I don't know even if she were willing to take 
 the risk I'm almost afraid it is too late for setting 
 myself straight, and that the Turkish army is the best 
 chance for me now." 
 
 "Well, if I were you, I should not own myself 
 beaten yet. A fresh start and a totally new life why 
 shouldn't you have that as well in Scotland as in 
 Turkey?" 
 
 "But is Sylvia willing?" said Murray, in a low 
 voice. 
 
 " Honestly, I don't know," said Crayshavv. " Mr. 
 Alison says she says little, but that she seemed very 
 unhappy at the idea of your going to Turkey. I 
 dare say she feels she has been perhaps hard on you. 
 Give her and yourself another chance, Murray." 
 
 " She was never a bit harder on me than I deserved," 
 said Murray, in half-offended tones. "God bless 
 her," he ended, reverently. 
 
 To Murray, as to Sylvia, the troubles of the past 
 days seemed to have vanished, and, left a remembrance 
 of nothing but happiness, and unlike her, all that he 
 did remember of them seemed to him now to have 
 arisen from his own fault. 
 
 " Look here, Murray," said Crayshaw, after a pause, 
 " let me write to Mr. Alison, and say you are willing
 
 278 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 to abide entirely by your wife's wishes ; and then, 
 whatever she says, you will at least be able to feel 
 you have honestly done your best." 
 
 Murray did not answer for a few minutes. He sat 
 meditatively stroking his moustache, with his eyes 
 full of thought eyes that seemed melancholy in even 
 his gayest moods. 
 
 He had not forgotten that last interview with 
 Sylvia, though the sense of his own wrongs towards 
 her had swept away any bitterness against her. He 
 was honestly anxious to put himself aside, and do 
 what was best for her. Murray had been more 
 thoughtless than really selfish all his life, and just 
 now he was not thinking of himself at all. 
 
 " Write what you like, Crayshaw," he said. 
 
 " All right," said Crayshaw, cheerfully, " I foresee it 
 will all dry straight, old fellow. I'll write to-night, 
 and till the answer comes you can help me to put in 
 my leave." 
 
 " Aren't you going to your people ? " said Murray. 
 
 " I may run up to them for a day on my way home, 
 but I've been thinking it's a pity to waste this rip- 
 ping weather in town. What do you say to charter- 
 ing a boat, and having a few days on the Thames ? 
 I haven't been down for more than a day since I left 
 Eton. We could settle where Mr. Alison had better 
 write to." 
 
 Murray turned red. He knew very well why 
 Crayshaw made this proposal, that he understood 
 how unwilling he would be to meet any of his friends 
 just then. 
 
 " Well, what do you say ? " said Crayshaw, after
 
 CRA YSHA W AND MURRA Y. 279 
 
 waiting for a minute for him to speak. " If you have 
 nothing better in view, I think my idea is not a bad 
 one. I don't know if you dislike London in May as 
 much as I do. I am not keen to do the park, and 
 there would be no possibility of escaping all manner 
 of frivolity." 
 
 Murray only said " All right," but just then he felt 
 scarcely sure enough of himself to say much more. 
 
 He was dimly feeling the difference between Cray- 
 shaw's quiet undemonstrative friendship, his silence 
 from reproach when it would have been useless, and 
 Sylvia's indignant aloofness.
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 SYLVIA'S DECISION. 
 
 CRAYSHAW'S letter reached Delagherty at the best 
 possible time for the fulfilment of his and Murray's 
 wishes. Sylvia had begun to be horribly, unutterably 
 bored. There was an entire want of sympathy in 
 the neighbourhood on the subject of her misfortunes 
 in fact she considered everybody was intensely dis- 
 agreeable. 
 
 Mrs. Carr had actually cut her, Sylvia felt sure 
 intentionally, in Delagherty street one day, and the 
 Grimshaws and the Besants had not once asked her 
 over since her return ; and she knew the Dawsons had 
 had a small tennis to which she had not been invited, 
 and before they had always asked her. 
 
 It is probable that this neglect was chiefly acci- 
 dental ; Sylvia married could not of course be as im- 
 portant a person to these mothers with ineligible sons 
 as she had been when free and available, and she 
 had never made any girl friends. However it was, 
 the fact remained that she was very dull. 
 
 Then she was conscious of disapproval from her 
 father and Floss disapproval which made her cease 
 to wish for their society. In fact she felt in a 
 
 2 8q
 
 SYLVIA'S DECISION. 281 
 
 general atmosphere of disapproval just then, and no 
 one could dislike it more. 
 
 " You'll end by driving me to run away with George 
 or some one! " she said indignantly to Floss one day, 
 " just so as to give you something real to disapprove 
 of! " 
 
 Then, her ponies were sold, and Mr. Alison did not 
 appear in any hurry to procure others for her ; so if 
 she wanted to go into Delagherty she was obliged to 
 walk, and she particularly disliked walking. 
 
 Certainly Charlie Morrison and Mr. Dent, and a 
 few other Delagherty men of that calibre, were more 
 anxious than ever to be agreeable to her ; but Sylvia, 
 even in her present destitution of society, masculine 
 and otherwise, could not but feel this a downcome. 
 Mr. Dent was admittedly a cad, and Charlie Morrison 
 was renowned for a propensity to attach himself to 
 any girl who was willing to have him. She could not 
 even go to the militia functions the very feeblest of 
 entertainments because she had no one to go with 
 her, and her father would not consent to her attending 
 
 * o 
 
 them alone. Besides, it would have entailed a two- 
 mile walk to begin with. 
 
 So Sylvia began to find life at Delagherty by no 
 means realised her expectations. And one day, when 
 she was in the very lowest of spirits, came Crayshaw's 
 letter. 
 
 She was not in the garden this time, when Mr. 
 Alison brought it to her ; instead she was sitting at 
 the piano in the drawing-room, disconsolately strum- 
 ming a few bars of a valse now and then, and won- 
 dering what she was going to do with herself all day.
 
 282 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 When companionship and amusement failed her, 
 Sylvia found herself sorely at a loss. 
 
 " There is a letter I think you had better read, 
 Sylvia," said her father ; " read it, and make up your 
 mind about the matter once for all. I will expect 
 you to tell me what answer I am to send when I 
 come back to-night" 
 
 And then he left her, and went off to his business, 
 feeling pretty confident that her answer would be a 
 satisfactory one. 
 
 fie had provided Sylvia with something to think 
 about the whole day. It was really very hard to 
 decide. Certainly it would be very nice to regain 
 every one's approval, to make Mrs. Carr and the rest 
 believe nothing had ever been wrong. Yes ; there 
 would undoubtedly be immense satisfaction in that ! 
 Her father would be pleased, Floss would be pleased. 
 Every one could not but think how well she had acted 
 towards Murray ; and as for Murray himself ah, 
 how pleased he would be, how grateful, how penitent ! 
 But then, the estate in Scotland well, she was not 
 there yet, and at the worst it was not in the immediate 
 future. 
 
 So it came about that by the evening Sylvia had 
 pretty well made up her mind as to the answer, 
 though when her father asked her for it in the drawing- 
 room after dinner, she only temporised, and said : 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 Now Mr. Alison was thoroughly tired of the whole 
 affair, and considered that Sylvia was the most un- 
 reasonable young woman he had ever come across 
 So he spoke sharply enough ;
 
 S YL VIA 'S DECISION. 283 
 
 " I should like to know what you mean by that 
 absurd answer, Sylvia. Are you, or are you not, 
 willing to go back to your husband ? I should be 
 very much obliged if you would make it your business 
 to know." 
 
 " Well, Gov.,you see there is Scotland," said Sylvia, 
 slowly, " I am sure I could not live there " 
 
 "Nonsense," said Mr. Alison, unsympathetically; 
 " why, you could live anywhere you have never had 
 a day's illness in your life as far as I know." 
 
 " But it is the loneliness," said Sylvia, dolefully. 
 " Arthur has always said it is very lonely, and I can- 
 not go hunting or shooting, or " 
 
 Mr. Alison sighed impatiently. 
 
 " Well, Sylvia, you are beyond my comprehension," 
 he said ; " make up your mind to please yourself, but 
 spare me the arguments for and against." 
 
 Far from feeling repulsed, Sylvia only came round 
 to him, and seated herself close to him. 
 
 " Father, dear," she said caressingly, " don't you 
 think that if I give up everything " it was just as 
 well to be a little vague " to go back to Arthur, he 
 might give up going to that horrid Scotland ? " 
 
 " All those things can be settled afterwards between 
 you," said Mr. Alison ; " the present question is 
 whether you intend to go back to him or not." 
 
 " But don't you think," said Sylvia, persuasively, 
 " that when you are writing you might just mention 
 something about Scotland even if he would take 
 a house in town for half the year " 
 
 " Once for all, Sylvia, I won't say a word about 
 anything of the kind," said Mr. Alison, in the
 
 284 THE STOR Y OF S YL VIA . 
 
 decided tone that told her further argument was 
 useless. 
 
 So she gave in, with the best possible grace. 
 
 " Very well, Gov., whatever you think best," she 
 said meekly ; and that night Mr. Alison wrote to 
 Crayshaw. But before he went to business in the 
 morning, Sylvia came to him with a little three- 
 cornered note in her hand. 
 
 " For Arthur," she said, with a pretty flush ; and 
 Mr. Alison could not divest himself of an uncomfort- 
 able feeling that there might be something in it about 
 the house in town. 
 
 And then Sylvia made her way over to the Elms. 
 
 " You shall be disagreeable no longer, Floss," she 
 said gaily. " I have written to Arthur, and every- 
 thing is going to come all right." 
 
 The fateful letter met Murray and Crayshaw at 
 Oxford. They had a few very idle, peaceful days on 
 the river, days during which Murray, in spite of his 
 suspense, contrived to regain his spirits at intervals. 
 These brief returns to his old sunny manner came 
 always as a surprise to Crayshaw, well as he knew 
 Murray's elasticity of temperament. 
 
 But the last day had been a less cheerful one. It 
 had been a bitter disappointment to him to find no 
 letter awaiting them on their arrival, when he knew 
 it would have been possible for him to receive one. 
 He said little, but that in itself was unusual with 
 Murray. And next day he went up to the post-office 
 by himself, having obtained Crayshaw's permission to 
 open Mr. Alison's letter, whether it was addressed to 
 him or not
 
 SYLVIA'S DECISION. 285 
 
 The Irish post did not get in till ten, and when 
 Murray found this he was obliged to fill up the 
 interval with a stroll about Oxford. It did not strike 
 him to go back to the hotel and have his breakfast 
 they had not tried spending their nights on the boat. 
 Crayshaw, who had been accustomed to early hours 
 for the last few days, got hungry, and had his own 
 breakfast. Then he went to his room and began to 
 bundle the few things he had needed for the night 
 into the small portmanteau which he and Murray had 
 agreed to share for this expedition. He had just 
 discovered that, having carefully packed up the 
 trousers he had worn yesterday under everything 
 else, he had left all his money in the pockets, and 
 was ruefully contemplating the undoing of his handi- 
 work, when Murray made his appearance. 
 
 Up the stairs about six steps at a time, and into 
 Crayshaw's room like a whirlwind, without the pre- 
 vious ceremony of knocking there was no need to 
 ask what Murray's news had been. 
 
 " Hurrah ! " said he jubilantly. " It's all right, 
 Crayshaw ! " 
 
 Crayshaw had never seen him so utterly moved 
 beyond his own control. 
 
 " She wrote to me herself what a darling she is ! 
 
 my sweet little Sylvia oh, d ! what an idiot I 
 
 am." And Murray dashed his hand across his eyes 
 with an uncertain laugh. 
 
 The relief had been so intense that he was excited 
 to the extent of being hardly aware what he was 
 doing. 
 
 " I am awfully glad," said Crayshaw.
 
 286 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 " It's all thanks to you, old fellow I shall never 
 forget it," said Murray. "If you are not our very 
 first visitor, may I wake up and find this all a dream 
 and that I am off to Turkey ! " 
 
 " Go and have your breakfast, and don't be a fool," 
 said Crayshaw ; but his tone was sympathetic, if his 
 words were not.
 
 CHAPTER XLVIII. 
 MEETING AGAIN. 
 
 " IT is really quite as exciting as getting married ! " 
 said Sylvia. 
 
 She had made a sudden appearance at the windows 
 of the Elms' drawing-room, greeting Floss with these 
 words. The coolness between them was a thing of 
 the past now, and the announcement of Arthur 
 Murray's approaching arrival to all the Delagherty 
 people had not given her more satisfaction than it 
 had to Floss. 
 
 "There has been a telegram from Arthur," said 
 Sylvia. " He is crossing by Larne and Stranraer, 
 and will be here this evening." 
 
 " I am very glad," said Floss. 
 
 " I only just ran over to tell you, for I have not a 
 minute," said Sylvia, briskly. " I am going to put on 
 my new dress, and I have my hair to curl ; if I had 
 known last night I would have put it in papers it 
 looks so much better than when it is curled by tongs." 
 
 " Why, your hair curls naturally," said Floss. 
 
 " Yes, for ordinary occasions, but not when I want 
 to look my best," said Sylvia, brightly. " Do you 
 
 know, I am feeling quite shy about it, Floss ; but it 
 
 287
 
 288 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 will be awfully nice to see him again. Do you think 
 I am looking pretty?" 
 
 Floss did think she was. 
 
 " But I believe Mr. Murray will be thinking of you 
 yourself, and not of your appearance," she said. 
 
 " Ah, you have not been married," said Sylvia, 
 nodding her head sagely. " Men are not like that 
 they always think of your appearance ! " 
 
 And then she darted away, leaving Floss looking 
 after her with a doubt on her mind whether all was 
 right even yet. Was Sylvia's hardness due to want 
 of feeling, or want of comprehension ? 
 
 As to Sylvia herself, she was in a very happy frame 
 of mind. There was nothing to damp her joy, except, 
 indeed, that there had been no answer from George 
 to her apologetic letter to him. But she was not in 
 the least inclined to worry over this as she performed 
 her elaborate toilet for Murray's benefit. Apart from 
 him, she had an artistic pleasure in the consciousness 
 that she was well dressed and looking her best ; and 
 then, next to herself, she certainly did care for Arthur, 
 and it was a satisfaction to feel that she was behaving 
 to him in a thoroughly magnanimous way a way 
 that he at least would appreciate, if no one else did. 
 
 She was in the drawing-room to receive him, and 
 Mr. Alison let him go there alone. He himself had 
 said nothing to Murray, only shaken hands with him 
 and told him where he would find Sylvia ; and indeed 
 it would have been of little use to speak to that young 
 man just then. 
 
 He was much more nervous than Sylvia. He 
 came blindly into the room, not seeing her for a
 
 MEETING AGAIN. 289 
 
 moment as he stood by the window. And it was she 
 who was the first to move. 
 
 " Arthur, my dear," she said, coming across the 
 room to where he stood, and holding up her face 
 to be kissed. " It is very good to have you again." 
 
 And as for Murray, he was for a long time content 
 to hold her to him, and say nothing. She was his 
 again his, when he thought he had lost her for ever. 
 
 And Sylvia said nothing about town houses that 
 night, being thoroughly contented with the present 
 moment, and feeling that with all his sins her hus- 
 band at least knew how to appreciate her. 
 
 It was not till the evening of the next day that she 
 mentioned the subject. She had gone upstairs to 
 dress for dinner, and was sitting before the glass in 
 the daintiest of dressing-gowns, brushing out her 
 thick reddish-brown hair. Murray had come up, too, 
 but could not be persuaded to go to his dressing- 
 room and array himself. There was lots of time, he 
 said, and so he lingered about, considerably impeding 
 Sylvia, especially as he was in a most lively and lover- 
 like mood. 
 
 " It is awfully bad for your hair, do you know, 
 brushing it so much," he said. 
 
 " Well, if you were not talking to me, probably I 
 should not brush it so much," said Sylvia, serenely. 
 
 " Well, stop and talk to me. I wish you could 
 always be like that you look so sweet no, I 
 don't ; I prefer no one should see you so but me, 
 for they certainly couldn't help kissing you ! " And 
 Murray proceeded to give her a very hearty kiss 
 himself. 
 
 20
 
 290 THE S TOR Y OF S YL VIA . 
 
 " You silly boy ! " said Sylvia ; " come and sober 
 down, and talk business." 
 
 " Business," said Murray ; " I'll talk about anything 
 under the sun you like." 
 
 He threw himself down in the most comfortable 
 armchair, and Sylvia came to sit on his knee, leaning 
 her fair dishevelled curls against his shoulder, and 
 feeling just then it would be hard for him to deny her 
 anything. 
 
 " I want to know where we are going to live, 
 Arthur," she said. 
 
 " Oh, you disagreeable child, do you think I can 
 talk of that kind of thing to you to-day ! " said 
 Murray, carelessly ; but Sylvia saw he was a little 
 sobered. 
 
 " You will talk of anything that I like," said Sylvia, 
 confidently. 
 
 " Well, then, don't you think we shall make a 
 good farmer and farmeress in Scotland ? " suggested 
 Murray. 
 
 " That is it," said Sylvia. " Arthur, I don't want 
 to go to Scotland." 
 
 " Why talk about it to-day, my pet ? " said Murray, 
 the slightest of clouds coming over his happy face. 
 
 " Because I shall not be content until it is settled," 
 said Sylvia. " It is not as if you wanted so much to 
 go and settle down there yourself you don't really 
 want it, do you, dear ? " 
 
 "It is not what I want if I had my choice, I would 
 be quite willing to do as you wished," said Murray, 
 soberly. " It is a case of necessity." 
 
 " Well, listen to me, Arthur. Don't you think com-
 
 MEETING AGAIN. 291 
 
 promises are capital things ? " said Sylvia, softly 
 stroking his hand as it lay between both hers. 
 
 " Supposing I agree to go and farm with you in Scot- 
 land for six months of the year, and supposing you 
 agree to come and have a good time in London with 
 me for the other six months ? " 
 
 Murray was grave enough no\\ For a few minutes 
 he was silent, his fingers mechanically playing with 
 Sylvia's curls, in a way that told her that at least he 
 was not offended. 
 
 " I didn't want to talk of disagreeable things to- 
 day," he said ; " but, after all, I dare say it is better to 
 tell you everything at once. Sylvia, have you any 
 idea how much we spent during our six months in 
 Dublin?" 
 
 Sylvia shook her head. 
 
 " Not the faintest," she said ; " but really, Arthur, it 
 cannot have been much." 
 
 " That depends on what you call much," said 
 Murray. " I don't think we did anything particularly 
 extravagant, but we got through more money than we 
 ought, somehow. I don't exactly know myself how 
 much, but I know it is somewhere near three thou- 
 sand ; and to spend that in six months out of an 
 income of two thousand a year is pretty good." 
 
 " Three thousand ! My goodness, Arthur, how did 
 we do it ? " exclaimed Sylvia. 
 
 " I am sure I don't know, darling," said Murray, 
 " but somehow we let it slip away. And then, this 
 last miserable time in London I really don't know 
 what I spent, but the result is it is very hard on 
 you, darling, but I am afraid we'll have to economise
 
 292 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 for a few years. Do you mind very much, my 
 darling?" 
 
 " Do you mean we shall be very poor? " said Sylvia 
 in consternation. 
 
 " Not exactly very poor, dear ; but with the estate 
 to keep up and so on well, I am afraid we can't 
 manage a season in London at present, and indeed 
 at the best of times it would have been a pull. It 
 won't be so very dull, after all, darling ; we can have 
 people for the shooting, and I'll do my best to make 
 you happy." 
 
 Sylvia was a young woman who never yielded un- 
 gracefully, and just at present the estate in Scotland 
 was in the future. 
 
 " Well, dear, never mind the house in London," she 
 said magnanimously ; " we are going to be sensible, 
 happy country people." 
 
 " It won't be so bad," pursued Murray. " You'll 
 be a perfect little queen there everybody about is 
 anxious to see you. It won't be so very bad, my 
 pet." 
 
 " Arthur, you idling person ! " exclaimed Sylvia, 
 jumping up; "there is the gong, and you haven't 
 even begun to dress."
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 HARRY COMES TO EENAH. 
 
 " I AM very glad to see you, Egerton. I was half 
 afraid you would never find your way to this back of 
 the world place." 
 
 The most primitive of Scotch country stations, and 
 the wettest of Scotch November days. The station- 
 master was wet, the solitary porter was wet, and 
 Murray was very wet indeed, with the rain running 
 down his waterproof coat in a steady stream. 
 
 " Sylvia fully intended to come to meet you if it 
 had not been so wet," said Murray. 
 
 " Well, I must say it is rather showery ! " said 
 Harry Egerton, cheerfully ; neither wind nor weather 
 ever effected his spirits. " There, my whole kit is 
 contained in that bag. Hope you aren't ashamed of 
 greeting a third-class passenger ! You see it would 
 never do for a private to go anything else, even in 
 mufti, and we'll hope the station-master hasn't re- 
 marked it." 
 
 " Don't you think we had better go on ? " suggested 
 Murray; " we have fourteen miles to drive, and it isn't 
 the pleasantest of weather. My trap is waiting out- 
 side. I hope you're well prepared for wet ? "
 
 294 THE S TOR Y OF S YL VIA . 
 
 " Indeed, I wonder you didn't bring the close 
 carriage for me," said Harry, laughing. 
 
 " Don't even possess such an article," said Murray ; 
 " there's only one road near Eenah you can drive a 
 one-horse machine on with any comfort, and no- 
 where at all two horses could go." 
 
 " So you take to a tandem," said Harry, surveying 
 Murray's horses and trap with much satisfaction. 
 " Well, it's providential my life isn't of much im- 
 portance to any one but myself, but do remember 
 / set some value upon it." 
 
 " Get up, then, if you are prepared to risk it," said 
 Murray. "There, leave his head, McCrea all right." 
 
 And after a few plunges they were off most success- 
 fully. 
 
 " Now," said Harry, "let me do the civil and 
 inquire for Sylvia." 
 
 " Oh, Sylvia is flourishing, thank you," said Murray 
 " and looking forward to your coming immensely." 
 
 " What does she think of my comedown in life ? 
 I suppose she was awfully disgusted when she heard 
 I had enlisted ? " said Harry. " I know you think I 
 have come to utter grief." 
 
 Murray was some few minutes before he replied. 
 Perhaps his leader engaged his attention just then ; 
 perhaps he remembered to how much worse grief he 
 himself had come at any rate Harry did, as soon as 
 he had spoken. 
 
 " No," Murray said at last. " It is a pity, of course, 
 but if you like the life 
 
 " It's just this," said Harry ; " before I went in for 
 that last exam, of mine, I made up my mind that
 
 HARRY COMES TO REN AH. 295 
 
 if I failed that would be my last. It's a rough life, 
 but I don't dislike it. There's only one other gentle- 
 man in the ranks in our regiment, and he's a drunken 
 brute, but the men are very good sort of chaps, take 
 them on the whole." 
 
 " You haven't been over to Delagherty since, have 
 you ? " said Murray. 
 
 " No," said Harry, serenely ; " you see a private 
 isn't exactly a millionaire. But I shall go some 
 day, and create a sensation. I say, that bay horse 
 is a good one to go, Murray did you breed him 
 yourself?" and then the conversation became desul- 
 tory. 
 
 Murray did not waste any unnecessary time on 
 the road, but still, between ascents and descents, ruts 
 in which the wheels stuck, and places where the road 
 was a narrow strip and a tandem required great care, 
 it was nearly two hours before they arrived at the 
 gates of Eenah. 
 
 " There being nothing visible but mist, I haven't 
 been able to express my admiration as we came 
 along," said Harry ; " but you certainly have got fine 
 gates, Murray." 
 
 Murray laughed. 
 
 " Something in the style of a gaol, only that we 
 always keep them open. The place is in an awful 
 bad state it has been neglected for years. When I 
 came of age, I made up my mind to set some money 
 aside to keep it up, every year, but somehow by the 
 end of the year I had generally managed to use up 
 most of it. There, you can see one of the chimneys of 
 the house coming into sight. It's a great place, but it's
 
 296 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 only half furnished. One couldn't keep it up properly 
 under ten thousand a year." 
 
 The house loomed into view through the mist a 
 large, barrack-like building, long and low, standing, 
 for a reason possibly known to the architect, on an 
 elevation which effectually deprived it of the protec- 
 tion of the surrounding trees. The whole avenue had 
 been a steep ascent, and in the distance Harry could 
 see nothing but the tops of mountains vaguely appear- 
 ing through the mists. 
 
 Those windows to the right beyond that corner are 
 all empty rooms," said Murray, " and as far as I know, 
 they were never anything else. The member of my 
 family who built this edifice ought to have been shut 
 up as a lunatic. He spent so much on building it, 
 that none of his descendants have been able to keep 
 it up since. Here we are, Harry. I for one won't 
 be sorry to get to a fire ; my hands are quite numb, 
 trying to hold these wet reins." 
 
 And in another moment, Harry was in the hall, 
 with Sylvia flying down the stairs in her old headlong 
 way to welcome him. 
 
 " Keep off, young lady ! " he said, " I am simply a 
 mass of wetness." 
 
 " Oh, Harry ! oh, Harry ! I am so glad to see you ! " 
 said Sylvia, absolutely dancing up to him in her 
 delight. And Harry looked from her in her gay 
 dress, a dainty little figure making a spot of bright- 
 ness in the great gloomy old hall, to the hall itself, 
 with its walls lined with heavy black oak, and the 
 massive staircase at the further end. It was a hand- 
 some house inside, despite its barrack-like appearance
 
 HARRY COMES TO EENAH. 297 
 
 from without, but as a house for two people to live in, 
 in a lonely neighbourhood ! Harry began to feel 
 sorry for Sylvia. 
 
 " Oh, Harry, I wish you were not wet, and then I 
 could have you at once ! Alick, bring up Mr. 
 Egerton's portmanteau to his room ; and Harry dear, 
 be as quick as you can won't you ? " 
 
 " All right ; I won't be long," said Harry. " I've 
 a piece of news for you when I come, Sylvia I 
 don't know whether you will like it or not, but it will 
 interest you, I promise." 
 
 " Oh, what is it ? Tell me now, Harry, like a dear 
 boy, and it will give me something to think of while 
 you are dressing," said Sylvia, insinuatingly. 
 
 " Not a word not a single word till I corne down," 
 said Harry, unrelentingly. " You can try and guess 
 it till then, and that will give you something to think 
 of!"
 
 CHAPTER L. 
 A GREAT PIECE OF NEWS. 
 
 " Now, Harry dear, sit down on that comfortable 
 chair, and talk to me. What is the piece of news you 
 have to tell me ? " 
 
 " What a curious little mortal you are!" said Harry, 
 leisurely ; " don't be in such a hurry you mayn't like 
 my news so particularly when you do get it." 
 
 " Oh you provoking boy ! Remember you have 
 only two days here, and don't waste any more time, 
 when we have so much to talk about," said Sylvia, 
 eagerly. 
 
 " Well, since you must have it, George is engaged 
 to be married now the murder's out." And Harry 
 looked at Sylvia with comic alarm, which was half 
 affected, half real. " If you are going into hysterics, 
 or fainting fits, or anything, give me the tip, and I'll 
 call some one, for I'm not up to the business myself." 
 
 But Sylvia only flushed a sudden crimson. 
 
 " Oh, Harry ! George going to be married ! " she 
 said, breathlessly. 
 
 " Solemn and sad fact," said Harry, establishing 
 himself in a man's position in front of the fire, and 
 surveying Sylvia critically. " You see, when you left
 
 A GREAT PIECE OF NEWS. 299 
 
 Dublin he had to look out for some one else to fill 
 the post of accompanist to inspiration does that 
 express the idea ? " 
 
 " I am awfully surprised ! " said Sylvia, still dis- 
 quieted. 
 
 " You see, absence does not always make the heart 
 grow fonder, my dear girl." 
 
 " Oh, Harry, don't tease. I wish George had told 
 me but he never said a word. Who is the girl ?" 
 
 " A Miss C ements, the daughter of some brewer, 
 \\i\hpots of money," said Harry. " He knows where 
 to bring his pigs to market : there's no doubt of that." 
 
 " Harry, you are detestably vulgar," said Sylvia, 
 irritably. " I am sure all I hope is that George will 
 be happy, and that Miss Clements is capable of 
 making him so." 
 
 " Very creditable, I am sure," said Harry. " I 
 haven't as high an opinion of George as you have, 
 you know, and what chiefly occurred to me was, was 
 he capable of making her happy. As to him I only 
 wish I'd as good a chance." 
 
 " But what is Miss Clements like ? " urged Sylvia. 
 
 " I have heard no more than what I have told you, 
 in a letter from Floss. I always thought George as 
 mad as a March hare, but now I see there is method 
 in his madness. Well, it's a comfort one of the family 
 has succeeded in making a little money by poetry 
 too though of course they'll cut me in future." 
 
 " There is no getting a sensible word out of a boy 
 like you," said Sylvia, impatiently ; " I will write to 
 George, but there's no use talking to you." 
 
 " All right then ; let's change the subject," said
 
 300 THE STORY Of SYLVIA. 
 
 Harry. " If you have any bitter tears to weep, weep 
 them in private." 
 
 And probably this bold and summary method of 
 " breaking the news " to Sylvia was the best. Had 
 Floss or even Murray had to tell her, they would 
 have done so with a hesitation which would doubtless 
 have persuaded her she felt the matter deeply. But 
 with Harry, who had no hesitation or delicacies on 
 the subject, any display of sentiment would have been 
 ridiculous. 
 
 " Tell me how you like being here, Sylvia ? " he said. 
 
 "Like being here? I hate it," she said vehemently. 
 " It was not so bad while people were with us for the 
 shooting, but now, with the winter coming and nothing 
 to do, and no one to speak to from morning till 
 night!" 
 
 " Well, you have Murray," said Harry, gravely. 
 
 " Arthur ? Why, he is out from morning till night. 
 He is crazy about farming, and just now he is housing 
 cattle, or something at any rate I know he has been 
 away half the evening, lately." 
 
 " Oh " said Harry, giving a long whistle. 
 
 " And then sometimes we have the doctor to dinner 
 when he hardly opens his lips, and then off he and 
 Arthur go talking about this horrid fishery Talk of 
 an angel here comes Arthur. Arthur, I was just 
 telling Harry how afflicted I am with this stupid 
 doctor of yours." 
 
 " For stupid, read indifferent to Sylvia's charms," 
 said Murray, and there was a bitterness in his tone 
 which struck Harry, who was by no means un- 
 observant in his own way.
 
 A GREAT PIECE OF NEWS. 301 
 
 " Will you come down to the village with me after 
 dinner, Egcrton, and judge of him for yourself ? " 
 
 " No, he will not do anything of the kind," said 
 Sylvia, sharply. " You may do as you like, Arthur, 
 but Harry is not going to leave me all alone this 
 evening." 
 
 " Do you allow yourself to be disposed of in this 
 fashion," said Murray, with a forced laugh. 
 
 " I will divide the precious privilege of my society," 
 said Harry, lightly "to-night I will stay with Sylvia, 
 and to-morrow night I should like very much to go 
 down and see this fishery of yours she has been 
 telling me about." 
 
 " It's an enterprise on my part an idea of Wilson's, 
 the doctor here a very clever fellow, though Sylvia 
 does not think so. We have started a small vessel for 
 deep-sea fishing, halfway between this and the Irish 
 coast, and if we succeed we talk of establishing a 
 regular trade," said Murray. 
 
 "Arthur, talking of fishing, do you know that 
 George is engaged ? " said Sylvia, cutting ruthlessly 
 into the conversation. 
 
 " Really ? Engaged ? " said Murray, without 
 rousing himself to any extreme interest in the 
 subject, after one hasty glance at Sylvia. 
 
 And then dinner was announced. Harry noticed 
 that Murray drank a good deal of wine while they sat 
 together, after Sylvia had gone to the drawing-room. 
 
 " You will excuse my going out for an hour or so," 
 he said to Harry. " I have some things to attend to, 
 and know Sylvia will be anxious to have you all to 
 herself."
 
 302 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 And Sylvia evidently was. 
 
 We will have a tour of inspection before Arthur 
 comes in," she said gaily. " As you are here, I 
 suppose he will be early." 
 
 And then the two went on a desultory expedition 
 over the house, exploring from garret to cellar. 
 
 " I haven't even been in some of these rooms, 
 except once with Arthur, when we first came," said 
 Sylvia. " You see, the servants don't like being 
 interfered with ; and after all, I know nothing about 
 housekeeping, and would find it a bore. This 
 passage leads to the lumber-room : come and see 
 what we can find of interest there." 
 
 But though Sylvia was as bright and gay as ever, 
 Harry could not help seeing that there was some- 
 thing wrong between husband and wife. Sylvia's 
 behaviour to Murray seemed to him the exaggera- 
 tion of what he had noticed in Dublin, and his to 
 her was much less patient and considerate than it 
 had been there.
 
 CHAPTER LI. 
 THE FISHERY. 
 
 THE next day Harry went shooting with Murray, 
 and Sylvia brought them their lunch, and was in her 
 sunniest and sweetest frame of mind. And in the 
 evening Harry was carried off by Murray. 
 
 " There are some boats starting to bring back fish 
 from my trawler," said Murray. " You had better 
 come too, Sylvia. Jt is moonlight, and it will be a 
 pretty sight" 
 
 But Sylvia declined, having no fancy for the four- 
 mile walk her compliance would entail. 
 
 "You won't be very late, will you ?" she said. " I 
 sha'n't go to bed till you come back, as I shall want 
 to say good-bye to Harry. I believe he will have 
 to start at some unearthly hour in the morning." 
 
 Down in the little bay, Harry had his first intro- 
 duction to Dr. Wilson a heavily-built, silent man 
 of two or three and thirty, with a sullen expression 
 and a defiant manner. He said little, even to Murray, 
 and that little was entirely about the fishing and the 
 business on hand. As for Harry, he enjoyed the sea, 
 the moonlight, and the picturesque bustle of the boats' 
 start. 
 
 303
 
 304 THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA . 
 
 "They are going out to fetch home the fish," 
 explained Murray. "At present we have only one 
 vessel, and she stays out at sea for days at a time, 
 with these boats to fetch and carry." 
 
 " I should like to go out and stop there to fish," 
 said Harry. "I would if I hadn't to be back to- 
 morrow. Why don't you go yourself, Murray ? " 
 
 " I shall some day. I should have gone before, 
 only it is so terribly lonely for Sylvia. Indeed I 
 think we have seen everything, and had better go 
 back to the house. You'll come up, Wilson ? You 
 may as well." 
 
 Murray carried Dr. Wilson off to the billiard-room 
 when they came in. 
 
 " I dare say you'll join us after a bit," he said to 
 Harry ; and that young gentleman went off to the 
 drawing-room to find Sylvia, and bid her good-bye. 
 She was sitting over the fire, not doing anything, 
 when he came in, and received him with great 
 satisfaction. 
 
 " Why, it's not ten," she said. " It is good of you 
 to be so early." 
 
 " You'd much better have come with us, instead 
 of sitting here moping," said Harry, in his briskest 
 tones. 
 
 " Oh, I am used to it," she said resignedly ; " and 
 if you have to go to-morrow must you go to- 
 morrow ? " 
 
 " Well, I suppose so unless I were to desert." 
 
 " Where's Arthur ? Not in, I suppose ? Oh, with 
 that horrid doctor. Sit down, Harry, you needn't go 
 to them yet."
 
 THE FISHERY. 305 
 
 " If I stay I shall probably tell you some home 
 truths, and I do want to be civil," said Harry, 
 pathetically. 
 
 " Home truths ! " said Sylvia, sitting up in her 
 chair ; " tell me anything you like, I assure you I 
 sha'n't mind." 
 
 " Well, then, I should just like to know, to satisfy 
 my curiosity, if it has ever occurred to you that 
 Murray may be dull as well as you ? " said Harry, 
 slowly. 
 
 " Arthur dull ! Oh no, he is not at all dull he has 
 his farming, and Dr. Wilson to go about with. You 
 needn't waste any pity on him." 
 
 " And are there no people in the village for you 
 to make friends with ? Surely there must be a 
 clergyman's family ? " 
 
 " Yes, there is a Presbyterian clergyman, but he t 
 won't let his daughter associate with me, because we 
 used to play tennis on a Sunday when there were 
 men here for shooting." 
 
 " Nobody else ? " 
 
 " Not a soul, except two old ladies who are about 
 eighty. The only people about here under the age 
 of Methuselah were the McPhersons, and they have 
 gone abroad for the winter. I wanted Arthur to 
 take me abroad, but he says it would be too ex- 
 pensive." 
 
 Harry looked perplexed. 
 
 " No one within driving distance ? " he said. 
 
 " No one, and no roads to drive on if there were, 
 and nothing for me to drive if there were roads ! " 
 said Sylvia, dolefully. " There are two sweet little 
 
 21
 
 306 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 ponies and the dearest little trap the McPhersons 
 used to drive, that I want Arthur to buy, but they 
 want a hundred pounds for the lot, and he says it is 
 too much." 
 
 " Well, I don't know what to suggest," said Harry, 
 " but I'm sure you could mend matters if you set the 
 right way about it, Sylvia. And as it is Look here, 
 it's none of my business, and I hope you won't be 
 offended, but it strikes me that Murray drinks rather 
 more wine than is good for him." 
 
 " And if he does, how can I prevent it? " exclaimed 
 Sylvia, with sudden vehemence. " It is being with 
 that man, I suppose that doctor. How can I 
 prevent it ? " 
 
 " I can't tell you that," said Harry, " but it seems 
 to me you are not going the right way about it, just 
 at present. Good-night, Sylvia ; it is decent of you 
 not to be huffed with me, and I really only spoke 
 to you because there is no one else who is likely to 
 here."
 
 CHAPTER LII. 
 
 SYLVIA IS BORED. 
 
 " GOOD gracious, Arthur, you're not going out in 
 this rain ? " 
 
 " Yes, I must. I sha'n't be more than an hour, 
 but I must speak about those sheep I told you of." 
 
 " I don't remember your telling me ; but at any 
 rate I think you might stay with me now," and 
 Sylvia lay back in her chair discontentedly, "just 
 when I am missing Harry so much, too ! " 
 
 " You might have come with me if it hadn't been 
 raining," said Murray, hesitating. 
 
 " Oh, raining ! does it ever do anything but rain 
 here ? " said Sylvia, disconsolately. 
 
 " Oh, yes ; it snows sometimes," said Murray, 
 cheerfully. 
 
 " If you've nothing better to say than to make 
 such old jokes as that, I certainly think you had 
 better go to your sheep," said Sylvia, contemp- 
 tuously. 
 
 " Come and help me on with my coat then," said 
 Murray, with unabated good-humour. " Perhaps I 
 shall have gained some original ideas by the time 
 I come back."
 
 3o8 7 HE STOR Y OF SYL VIA . 
 
 " From the sheep, or the shepherds ? Dear me, to 
 think that this is only the sixth of November, and 
 that we have months of this kind of thing before us!" 
 
 " It really doesn't always rain, even in Sutherland- 
 shire," said Murray, laughing. His serenity was not 
 to be disturbed. He departed in the best of spirits, 
 and Sylvia heard him whistling as he went downstairs. 
 
 And there was Sylvia left alone in this big house, 
 with no possible companionship except that of the 
 servants, and even they were quite the distance of a 
 short walk from the drawing-room. She felt she 
 could have been more content in a smaller or at 
 least a more compact house. If she could even have 
 heard the servants' voices, or their feet moving about, 
 but no sound at all reached the drawing-room, except 
 the swish of the rain against the windows. It was 
 really very desolate. What in the world was there 
 for Sylvia to do? Read? Neither she nor Murray 
 had intellectual tastes. Perhaps a light and frivolous 
 novel might have tempted her just then in her utter 
 lack of companionship, which she would at any time 
 have preferred. But the only books in the house 
 were of an appallingly serious description. There 
 were no magazines or literature of that calibre lying 
 about in the Murrays' rooms. Neither of them cared 
 to read when there was anything else to do which 
 was decidedly unfortunate, all things considered. 
 Play ? Sylvia tried strumming over a few old tunes, 
 and then she found she was not in the humour for 
 that in fact, she was not in the humour for anything 
 but a little society, and that there was not much 
 probability of obtaining.
 
 SYLVIA IS BORED. 309 
 
 Oh, what a blessing it would be if some one would 
 turn up to amuse her if only something would 
 happen ! Sylvia curled herself up on the sofa, and 
 resigned herself to doleful reflection. 
 
 How in the world was she to get through the 
 winter, especially now that Murray had taken up this 
 unfortunate devotion to farming. 
 
 She herself had gone in for spasmodic bursts of 
 energy on the subject. Once she had taken up a 
 passion for pigs, for a whole week during which she 
 had been bored, but having obtained all the latest 
 porcine arrangements she grew tired of the fad, and 
 turned her attention to sheep, and then to rabbits, 
 which latter branch of animal culture was not re- 
 munerative, but was more amusing than the others, 
 and consequently lasted longer. 
 
 But Murray's " fad " did not seem to be of such a 
 passing nature. He also had begun by developing a 
 fancy to purchase all the newest improvements he 
 saw advertised, and had expended a vast amount of 
 breath and energy in endeavouring to persuade his 
 men that they were giving themselves a great deal of 
 extra labour by declining to make any changes. But 
 finally he found himself obliged to yield, and content 
 himself with letting them go on as they had always 
 done. 
 
 But he did not give up his farming, and on the 
 whole his people were very kind to him, and were 
 quite willing to let him express his opinions, and 
 even to take the trouble of proving to him that he 
 was mistaken as, indeed, he generally was. 
 
 " The Laird's " freaks were to them a source of
 
 3 T o THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA. 
 
 much wonder and amusement, while to Sylvia they 
 caused only irritation. Why should Murray throw 
 away the money that would have taken them to 
 France, or even to Ireland, in such nonsense ? So 
 this young lady meditated and pitied herself, till at 
 last she fell asleep. 
 
 And when Murray came in later on, he found her 
 lying on the sofa, her ruffled curls straying over her 
 forehead, and her long lashes resting on her soft 
 cheek. She looked such a child such a soft little 
 frail creature, that he stooped and kissed her gently, 
 moved by an impulse of pity and compunction. 
 
 His caress awoke Sylvia. 
 
 " Is it time to get ready for dinner, Arthur ? " she 
 said sleepily, seeing he was in evening dress. 
 
 " No ; I only changed now because I was 
 wet," said Murray, sitting down beside her. " It is 
 weather ! " 
 
 " Raining still ? " 
 
 " I should rather think so ! However, I was in 
 shelter some of the time, seeing about getting that 
 thresher I told you about mended." 
 
 " Oh," said Sylvia. 
 
 " I am afraid farming hasn't been much a success 
 with me as yet at any rate, as far as making money 
 is concerned," said Murray, dubiously. 
 
 " Hasn't it ? " 
 
 " I am rather down about those young cattle I 
 bought last Tuesday for fattening. McCloskie says 
 they are not thriving, and advises me to get rid of 
 them, but " 
 
 " I assure you 7 don't know anything about it,"
 
 6" YL VIA IS BORED. 3 1 1 
 
 said Sylvia, pettishly ; " for heaven's sake, don't turn 
 out a bore on my hands, Arthur ! " 
 
 Murray flushed a painful crimson. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, I am sure," he said, in a 
 constrained voice. 
 
 And then there was silence, till he arose, strangling 
 a yawn, and sauntered out of the room. And Sylvia 
 never knew how deeply she had hurt him she even 
 forgot what she had said very soon ; but he, despite 
 his easy-going lightness, never did. 
 
 Murray was by no means an angel, or even perhaps 
 a very good man, and though he had started their 
 life at Eenah with the full intention of atoning by 
 every means in his power for his wrong to Sylvia, 
 and had persisted in his resolution even when the 
 gloss had worn off their reconciliation and he knew 
 she was unchanged, still her unconcealed want of 
 interest in his concerns had not been without its 
 effect on his behaviour to her. 
 
 Altogether, more things than Murray's farming 
 were in an unsatisfactory state at Eenah.
 
 CHAPTER LIII. 
 GEORGE'S WEDDING. 
 
 " WHERE are you going this afternoon, Arthur," said 
 Sylvia one day. 
 
 " Over to the yard," said Murray, pausing at the 
 dining-room door. 
 
 He had not volunteered one single remark to Sylvia 
 about his farming projects since the day when she 
 had told him she hoped he was not becoming a bore, 
 and Sylvia had never noticed the change. 
 
 " Come down with me instead, and call at the 
 McCloskies'," she suggested. 
 
 " Call on the McCloskies what the dickens do you 
 want to call on the McCloskies for ? " said Murray in 
 surprise. 
 
 " Well, politeness partly," said Sylvia, " and partly 
 for something to do." 
 
 "The latter reason chiefly, I should think," said 
 Murray, " seeing that you have only called there once 
 since we came to Eenah." 
 
 " All the more reason I should go now," said Sylvia, 
 serenely. "Well, will you come? " 
 
 " It will be simply deadly," said Murray, hesitating, 
 " and I have some things to do, but 
 
 3"
 
 GEORGE'S WEDDING. 313 
 
 " Don't come unless you like," said Sylvia, amiably. 
 
 "Well, if you will come round by Mclllroy's plant- 
 ation with me," said Murray ; " I have to see a man 
 there about some trees, and then I could go on to 
 the village with you." 
 
 " Go round by Mclllroy's plantation a good half- 
 mile out of my way, and through the most awful 
 mud ! " said Sylvia. " No, thank you, Arthur. If you 
 can't put off the man there, I shall have to do without 
 the pleasure of your company." 
 
 " I can't, so you will have to do without it," said 
 Murray, with sudden, unreasonable anger. He went 
 out of the room, restraining an inclination to bang 
 the door after him. But a little later, as Sylvia was 
 getting ready for her walk to the village, there was a 
 tap at her door, and he put his head in. 
 
 " I'll walk round by the village and fetch you," he 
 said. 
 
 " Very well, dear," said Sylvia, tranquilly; " I'll meet 
 you at the post-office." 
 
 And she was supremely unconscious that his small 
 sentence had cost him any effort. 
 
 Sylvia was at the post-office first, either because 
 the McCloskies had proved unbearably stupid, or 
 because Murray's man had kept him longer than he 
 had expected. But when he arrived he received no 
 reproaches for his unpunctuality. Instead, Sylvia 
 ran towards him waving a letter excitedly, in the 
 most unmatronly manner possible. 
 
 " George is to be married next month, Arthur," 
 she exclaimed breathlessly. 
 
 " Next month," said Murray, with an amused smile
 
 3 H THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA . 
 
 at her excitement ; " is he really ? That is pretty 
 quick work." 
 
 " There is nothing to wait for, you see," said Sylvia ; 
 " the girl has plenty of money and can do as she likes. 
 We will have to see about a wedding present at once, 
 Arthur." 
 
 " Yes, indeed. Had you better write to Harry to 
 
 choose one, or to one of the London shops for a list ? " 
 
 " Harry indeed ! Heaven help anybody who trusted 
 
 to Harry to choose anything ! And then, you see 
 
 there will be my dress to settle about too." 
 
 " Your dress ! " said Murray. " My dear child, 
 haven't you already about a dozen dresses upstairs 
 which you never wear ? " 
 
 " Of course I have, seeing that in this place one 
 can only wear the very oldest rags one possesses. 
 But what I meant was a dress for the wedding." 
 " The wedding?" said Murray. 
 " Yes, I have no dress that would do for that ; I 
 really must get a new one. At a wedding one is 
 expected to be smart." 
 
 " But excuse me, Sylvia, what wedding are you 
 talking about ? " said Murray, very gravely. 
 
 "Why, George's wedding, of course," Sylvia returned 
 impatiently. 
 
 " Do you want to go, then ? " 
 
 " Do I want to go ! " repeated Sylvia, with a dis- 
 may which was none the less real that her former 
 certainty on the subject had been assumed ; " do I 
 want to go to George's wedding ! Why, Arthur ! " 
 
 " I am very sorry," began Murray ; but Sylvia 
 interrupted him.
 
 GEORGES WEDDING. 315 
 
 " If you are going to say you can't leave your 
 farming, we need only be a few days away, Arthur. 
 After all, the journey to Dublin is nothing, Arthur 
 dear," and Sylvia laid her hand caressingly on his 
 arm. " I haven't so many pleasures now. You, with 
 your farming, don't know how lonely it is to me. Oh, 
 Arthur darling, don't be unkind to me ! do let us go." 
 
 Did it never occur to Sylvia what a return to 
 Dublin would be to her husband ? Murray did not 
 know. He was not angry ; he knew very well she 
 did not mean her words unkindly ; she was simply 
 thinking of her own wishes. He sighed. 
 
 " I don't like to disappoint you, dear," he said 
 gently, " but it simply can't be managed." 
 
 " Arthur ! " 
 
 Tears rushed to Sylvia's eyes, and a caressing 
 little hand sought Murray's. She had not given up 
 all hope as yet. 
 
 "The fact of it is this," said Murray: "we've got 
 altogether beyond our income somehow, and as for 
 ready money, I positively haven't enough for a journey 
 to Ireland just at present, and one can't go on tick 
 for a railway ticket" 
 
 " What nonsense you are talking, Arthur," said 
 Sylvia, relieved ; " why, you have only got to sell 
 some of those cattle you have been buying." 
 
 " I could only sell them at a dead loss, and I can't 
 afford that, Sylvia darling. I wish it could be 
 managed ; but you must give it up for my sake." 
 
 " As if you could not get money somehow if you 
 wanted it ! Arthur, do manage it somehow ; ah ! 
 won't you manage it ? "
 
 3 1 6 THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA. 
 
 " I suppose I could borrow money, like most people," 
 said Murray, "but I don't want to do that." 
 
 " It is quite plain you don't want to go yourself! " 
 said Sylvia, sharply. 
 
 Murray winced at her words. 
 
 " Give it up, and we will go somewhere anywhere 
 you like in the spring," he said ; " and if my fishery 
 gets on, we may be as rich as Croesus next year." 
 
 But next year was too far away to be much comfort 
 to Sylvia just then. Her disappointment was very 
 bitter. 
 
 " It is you who have spent all the money," she 
 said, " and it is I who have to suffer for it ! I would 
 never have let them persuade me to go back to you 
 if I had known how selfish you were ! You don't 
 mind how much money you spend on yourself, 
 but me I am to have nothing no pleasure at 
 all ! " And Sylvia broke down into a sob. Never 
 before had she spoken to Murray, or indeed to any 
 one, like this ; never before, in truth, had she known 
 what disappointment was. And she was proportion- 
 ably disturbed. 
 
 Murray grew very white. 
 
 " You needn't make a scene on the road," he said 
 sternly. " Come, we can get home by crossing this 
 field, and then you can make all the reproaches you 
 wish in private." 
 
 " It is no use saying anything," cried Sylvia. " You 
 care for nothing but to please yourself, and and 
 you don't mind how miserable I am ! as long as you 
 have got that Wilson man to spend your time with 
 while I have nobody ! "
 
 GEORGE'S WEDDING. 317 
 
 " Have you anything more to say ?" said Murray, in 
 a low voice. 
 
 " You do not care what I say I know that ! Even 
 Harry Egerton could see that you neglected me 
 even he noticed you took too much wine, and he told 
 me so." 
 
 " Harry Egerton shall never enter my house again," 
 said Murray, between his teeth. 
 
 " Oh dear, I wish I had never married you " and 
 Sylvia broke down helplessly. 
 
 " I entirely share your wish," said Murray, speaking 
 with effort ; " probably you would prefer me to leave 
 you." And very gravely he turned away, raising his 
 hat slightly, and leaving Sylvia sobbing forlornly. 
 
 And she when she reached home grew frightened, 
 and very sorry for what she had said. She had all 
 the long evening to think of it, too, for it was past 
 twelve when Murray came in. Sylvia, in her re- 
 pentance, had sat up for him. She had been too hard, 
 she felt, and regretted it ; Murray should hear she 
 was sorry, and then a few caressing words would 
 make it all right. 
 
 Sylvia was frightened by his frowning brows, his 
 unsteady steps and thick utterance. She put off her 
 intended reconciliation till the next morning. And 
 then, when breakfast, a silent, gloomy breakfast was 
 over, she came to him, trying to put her arms round 
 his neck. 
 
 " Arthur dear, let us be friends," she said in the 
 caressing tones she had never known to fail. He did 
 not repulse her that was all that could be said. 
 
 " I am sorry for what 1 said yesterday, and we
 
 318 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 mustn't be vexed with one another any longer," she 
 said sweetly. 
 
 " Do you think that anything can ever again make 
 things as they were between us ?" said Murray, quietly. 
 " Do you think that you can make me forget them 
 by simply saying that you are sorry ? Our marriage 
 has been a mistake, Sylvia, but we must put up with 
 it, as a great many other people have to do." 
 
 " Arthur, don't say such dreadful things ; you 
 frighten me," said Sylvia, piteously. 
 
 " I sha'n't say them again," said Murray ; " but for 
 once it is better to look things in the face. I can 
 never forget or forgive what you said to me yester- 
 day, but I have not forgotten either that you have 
 much right to complain of me. Let us agree to 
 make the best of each other, and " 
 
 " And you'll let me go to Dublin, after all, won't 
 you, dear ? " said Sylvia, insinuatingly. 
 
 Murray sighed very heavily. 
 
 " Very well, Sylvia ; you shall go to Dublin," he 
 said shortly. 
 
 " Oh, you darling oh, you dear boy ! " exclaimed 
 Sylvia, ecstatically flinging her arms round him ; " and 
 I have been so unkind to you, and you are so sweet." 
 
 Murray drew away from her. 
 
 " Don't mistake me, Sylvia," he said coldly, " I am 
 very unwilling that you should go ; I simply will not 
 absolutely refuse to allow you." 
 
 " It is so good of you " began Sylvia, jubilantly. 
 
 " I shall not go myself," said Murray, shortly. 
 
 " Won't you ? Oh, what a pity ! " said Sylvia, 
 absently. " You musn't be lonely while I am away.
 
 GEORGE'S WEDDING. 319 
 
 I must see about my dress at once. Where had I 
 better write to, Arthur ? " 
 
 " Wherever you choose," said Murray, rising. " I 
 hope you will be happy now you have had your own 
 way." 
 
 " But don't go yet, before I have thanked you 
 properly or settled anything," cried Sylvia, dancing 
 up to him, her eyes bright with excitement. " Give 
 me a good kiss, Arthur." 
 
 " You can do very well without that," said Murray, 
 drawing away from her ; " and I am in a hurry " 
 
 " But oh, why do you go away, when you have 
 made me so happy ? " said Sylvia. 
 
 Murray stood by the door a moment longer, 
 looking into the radiant fair little face which had once 
 been the dearest thing in the world to him. Then he 
 turned away very grave and pale. And as he left the 
 house, he could hear Sylvia running upstairs, singing 
 gaily in her soft soprano the chorus of an old Scotch 
 song " Begone, dull care."
 
 CHAPTER LIV. 
 FLOSS GOES TO EENAH. 
 
 " PAPA, I am going to make a most startling proposal/' 
 said Floss. 
 
 " Are you, my dear ? " said Mr. Egerton, looking up 
 from his paper and his pipe ; " you are certainly not 
 much given to startling me." 
 
 " But I shall this time," said Floss. " Papa, if you 
 think you can spare me for a fortnight or so, I should 
 very much like to go to Scotland and pay Sylvia a 
 visit" 
 
 " Good heavens ! " Mr. Egerton laid down pipe 
 and paper, and looked at Floss with an expression of 
 unconcealed dismay. " I might have known Sylvia 
 Murray was to be thanked for any wild projects 
 on the part of my family ! Well, I suppose girls 
 are always wanting to gad about, but I should like 
 to know what is to become of the house and the 
 children while you are away ? " 
 
 " I don't think I have gadded very much," said 
 Floss, who had never slept out of the house since 
 leaving school, except for two nights at the time of 
 George t s wedding. " And as for the children, I will
 
 FLOSS GOES TO EENAH. 321 
 
 take Dicky with me, and the twins have really begun 
 to be very useful. I will leave a list of the dinners 
 with the cook, and I really don't think you will be 
 uncomfortable, papa. There are so few in the house 
 now the boys are all away." 
 
 But Mr. Egerton was not reconciled yet. 
 
 " And the expense of the journey ? " he said. 
 
 " I have been thinking of that," said she. " Dicky 
 will go half-price, of course, and a second-class ticket 
 to Glasgow or Edinburgh is not very expensive, I 
 know. I don't know yet what will be the best way 
 to go, but I should like to see Harry too, if I could 
 manage it." 
 
 " I see you want to make a regular outing of it, 
 young lady," said Mr. Egerton, not unkindly ; but 
 his tone seemed to suggest that here was a girl who 
 neglected her family in the constant pursuit of 
 amusement. " But what about dresses ? I suppose 
 you will want all sorts of fine garments to go among 
 such gay people ? " 
 
 " I don't expect I shall see anybody but Sylvia and 
 Mr. Murray," said Floss, quietly ; " it is the lone- 
 liness that Sylvia feels so much. She has asked me 
 so often to come, and now in this last letter she says 
 she is utterly miserable." 
 
 " Upon my word, you must feel very much obliged 
 to her for wanting you to come and be utterly 
 miserable with her." 
 
 " As if I had the least intention of being utterly 
 miserable," said Floss, with a smile. " What do you 
 think, papa ? Can you spare me, and can we afford 
 it ? This is only February, and I shall be back ages 
 
 22
 
 322 THE S TOR Y OF SYL VIA . 
 
 before there is any prospect of Billy coming 
 home." 
 
 " You are a good girl, and, I must say, don't often 
 ask for anything for yourself," said Mr. Egerton, with 
 sudden compunction. " Of course you shall go if 
 you like, and as for the money well, your travelling 
 expenses haven't come on me heavily." 
 
 And so Floss gained permission for her expedition, 
 as she expected, without much difficulty. Unless 
 his children's desires directly and obviously interfered 
 with his own, Mr. Egerton refused them nothing. 
 But there was a good deal to be done before she 
 could find herself free to start. She had to provide 
 for the comfort of those left behind as far as possible, 
 to give prophetic instruction to the servants, and 
 instruct the twins in her storeroom mysteries. Then 
 her own wardrobe and Dicky's had to be overhauled 
 and made the most of. And the nearer the day of 
 departure came, the more nervous and distressed grew 
 Floss. How in the world were the household at the 
 Elms to get on without her ? How were Dicky 
 and she ever to make their way to such a back-of- 
 the-world place as Eenah she who had never 
 travelled alone in her life ! 
 
 To no one did Floss confess her very real if 
 foolish nervousness at the idea of travelling on her 
 own responsibility not even to Dicky during their 
 journey. He was a little surprised at her silence 
 and gravity at her want of sympathy with his 
 exuberant delight ; but a wiser person than Dicky 
 would not have discovered her nervousness. She 
 was ashamed of it herself.
 
 FLOSS GOES TO EENAH. 323 
 
 The intensity of her relief when she found herself, 
 at the end of her journey, on the platform beside 
 Murray, and with all responsibility shifted from her 
 shoulders to his, seemed to her very ridiculous. 
 What a comfort it was to see Murray's familiar face, 
 after having felt herself for so long a stranger among 
 strangers. There was no change in him save his dress, a 
 dark heather kilt and jacket, which suited his tall, up- 
 right figure excellently well. He greeted her with the 
 same friendly smile and warm hand pressure as ever. 
 
 " I am very glad to see you it was very good of 
 you to come," he said. " Sylvia is delighted, and 
 would have met you, only there would have been 
 no room for your box. I suppose you know you 
 have a fourteen-mile drive before you though luckily 
 it is not such a bad day as when Harry was here. 
 Hullo, Dicky, my friend ! " 
 
 And then Floss, to her secret alarm, was requested 
 to mount to a seat beside Murray, who was driving 
 his tandem as usual, and had not even a man with 
 him on this occasion, to leave room for Floss's para- 
 phernalia, including Dicky. 
 
 " It was so good of you to come ; it is so lonely for 
 Sylvia," Murray repeated ; " but I am afraid it will 
 be very dull for you, though I dare say we can 
 manage to amuse Master Dicky." 
 
 " Dicky is intensely happy just at present," said 
 Floss, who was holding the small boy firmly by the 
 arm, and doing her best to keep him still. 
 
 And then Dicky considered that he had been 
 silent quite long enough, and proceeded to take a 
 prominent part in the conversation.
 
 324 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 It must be confessed that Floss was hardly suffi- 
 ciently at her ease to enter with much interest into 
 conversation during those fourteen long miles. Be- 
 tween the badness of the road, the friskiness of the 
 tandem, and Murray's driving, which seemed to her 
 reckless, she breathed a very heartfelt sigh of relief 
 when she found herself in the avenue at Ecnah. 
 There was wind instead of mist this day, and she 
 could see more of her surroundings than Harry had 
 been able to do, but neither was it a very pre- 
 possessing afternoon. The whistling wind made 
 Floss shiver as it swept through the trees, and the 
 house itself looked even more bare and desolate than 
 usual, standing out against the dull, leaden back- 
 ground of the sky. 
 
 But Sylvia at least looked neither dull nor dreary 
 when she appeared a bright little figure on the door- 
 step, eager to greet her guests. Floss looked at her, 
 and wondered if, after all, she had taken that last 
 letter of hers as more urgent than the writer had 
 intended it to be ; but when she remembered the 
 words she could not think so. " I beg and entreat 
 of you to come and see me," Sylvia had written ; " I 
 have not had a soul to speak to since George's 
 wedding, and I shall go mad if we are alone here 
 much longer. Arthur is out half the night, and I 
 get so frightened and miserable sitting here all alone, 
 with the servants far away at the other end of the house 
 I sha'n't stand it much longer if you don't come." 
 
 And now here was Sylvia looking her brightest 
 and prettiest, eagerly racing about over the house 
 with Floss and Dicky.
 
 FLOSS GOES TO EENAH. 32$ 
 
 And till they went to bed that night her cheer- 
 fulness remained unchanged. Except a certain cool- 
 ness and civil indifference between her and Murray, 
 Floss noticed nothing amiss. But when she went 
 to her room early, as she was a little tired, Sylvia 
 came with her, prepared, it was at once evident, 
 to relate her troubles. Floss's room was a large one, 
 so large that candles on the mantelpiece only lighted 
 half of it, leaving many corners in cold and dark- 
 ness. But by the fire there was a cosy nook, which 
 was warm and cheerful, and there Sylvia drew up an 
 armchair for Floss, and seated herself on the rug at 
 her feet. 
 
 " It is nice to have you, Floss," she said, laying her 
 curly head against the other girl's knee. " I don't 
 mind hearing the wind whistling when I have you, 
 but when I am all alone it sends me nearly mad. 
 I should like to go and sit in the servants' hall, 
 but then I know the servants would not like 
 it." 
 
 " I am sure if Mr. Murray knew how lonely you 
 were," began Floss, with some hesitation. 
 
 " Arthur oh, you don't know him now. He has 
 never forgiven me for going to George's wedding; 
 and it's a shame, isn't it, for he let me go ? Besides, 
 he says he must go to see about this fishing." 
 
 "Well, you see, Sylvia, when a thing is necessary, 
 that makes a difference," said Floss, twisting the 
 girl's curls round her fingers. . 
 
 " But I don't believe it is the least necessary for 
 him to go every night," said Sylvia, crossly ; " you 
 see he could stay to-night well enough, and I believe
 
 326 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 he did it just because he knew I wanted to talk to 
 you alone." 
 
 " Sylvia ! you are most awfully unjust," said Floss. 
 Such a proceeding would have been so foreign to 
 Murray's whole character, that she almost laughed at 
 the idea. 
 
 " Are you going to take his side, like all the rest?" 
 said Sylvia, pettishly. " There is not a servant in the 
 house that does not think the sun rises and sets on 
 Arthur, whatever he does ; and I believe they would 
 think the same if he were to murder me." 
 
 Floss found herself, as usual, beginning to treat 
 and look upon Sylvia as a child. 
 
 " I am not going to take anybody's part," she said, 
 " and you are not going to quarrel with me to-night, 
 are you, Sylvia ? " 
 
 Sylvia took Floss's hand and kissed it, with one of 
 her sudden impulses. 
 
 " Am I being horrid to you, you dear Floss," she 
 said, " and just after you have been so good, and 
 come so far?" 
 
 "You have only been talking nonsense," said 
 Floss. " Shall we go and have a look at Dicky 
 next door?" 
 
 But this panacea for all ills did not seem to com- 
 mend itself to Sylvia. 
 
 " Never mind Dicky," she said. " You don't know 
 what a comfort it is to me to have some one to talk 
 to to ay anything to. Oh, Floss, if I am cross it 
 is no wonder ! You don't know how miserable I am.' 
 
 " I am very sorry," said Floss ; " you won't be so 
 lonely now I am here, will you ? "
 
 FLOSS GOES TO EENAH. 327 
 
 " It isn't only loneliness," said Sylvia, laying her 
 cheek against Floss's fingers ; " I would rather be 
 alone sometimes than with Arthur." 
 
 " Sylvia ! " 
 
 " Yes," said Sylvia in a low voice, " you don't know 
 how he has changed, Floss. Nobody knew what it 
 would be when you all made me go back to him." 
 
 " Sylvia," said Floss, " is he unkind to you ? " 
 
 It was a long time now since Murray had descended 
 from the pedestal on which Floss had placed him one 
 sunny July nearly three years ago ; but still, that he 
 would be wilfully unkind to any one, much less to 
 Sylvia, she would not believe. 
 
 " He does not beat me, if that is what you mean ! " 
 said Sylvia, with a shaky laugh. " But when he is 
 sober, he neglects me ; and when he is drunk and 
 that is very often " she ended in a hard voice. 
 
 " Oh, Sylvia, my poor child ! " said Floss, bending 
 over to kiss her, and perhaps to hide her own face- 
 The fire was getting low, and in the silence some of 
 the ashes fell down into the grate with a little thud. 
 
 " Yes," said Sylvia again, " he drinks down there 
 at the fishery like any common man, I suppose ; and 
 they say," she added, colouring, " they say there is 
 some one in the village. I don't know I never 
 ask." 
 
 Floss said nothing, she only held Sylvia closely to 
 her. 
 
 " It is pleasant for you, isn't it ? " said the girl ; 
 " but you would know all about it sooner or later. 
 There, I won't keep you any longer, or your fire will 
 go out. Good- night.''
 
 CHAPTER LV. 
 FLOSS'S VISIT TO EENAH. 
 
 NEXT morning Sylvia flitted into Floss's room before 
 breakfast, looking as bright and gay as a lark. 
 
 *' I have made so many attempts to get you here, 
 that I doubted whether you had really come this 
 morning when I awoke," she said gaily. " Dicky and 
 I have already been in communication, and have 
 arranged for battledore-and-shuttlecock after break- 
 fast. That won't suit you, Floss; so I wish you 
 would go out with Arthur for a bit. He goes round 
 the farm every morning, and he likes some one to go 
 with him so much." 
 
 There was nothing either sad or tragic about Sylvia 
 this morning, but Floss's mood could not change so 
 easily. 
 
 "Are you sure he would not rather be by himself, 
 if he is busy ? " she said, with some embarrassment. 
 
 " I am quite sure that Arthur would never rather 
 be by himself," said Sylvia, laughing. " I will pro- 
 pose it to him if you don't like to, and if it will not 
 bore you too much." 
 
 And Sylvia was as good as her word. 
 
 " Arthur," she said at breakfast, " Floss is going 
 
 328
 
 FLOSS'S VISIT TO EENAH. 329 
 
 round the farm with you this morning, if you would 
 like it" 
 
 And Murray turned to her with his old friendly smile. 
 
 " That is very good of you," he said, " and will be 
 very pleasant for me, if you are sure it will not bore 
 you ? " 
 
 Floss did not think it was at all likely to bore her, 
 and said so. 
 
 " I remember that at any rate you used to take an 
 interest in chickens," said Murray, with a smile ; " so 
 if the weather doesn't frighten you, you mayn't find it 
 as bad as Sylvia used to do." 
 
 " Oh, Floss shall put on her strongest boots," said 
 Sylvia ; " I will look out for the thickest soles. 
 Floss, that child will surely choke himself if he goes 
 on putting such large pieces into his mouth." 
 
 And Sylvia having thus unprovoked declared war 
 upon Dicky, there was no more peace during break- 
 fast. Indeed, peace in a house that contained both 
 Sylvia and Dicky was a thing unknown. They had 
 become more amicable by the time Murray and Floss 
 went out. 
 
 Floss was very warmly arrayed, according to the 
 recommendation both of Sylvia and Murray, and 
 though there was certainly a good deal of slush and 
 mud to be waded through during their expedition, 
 she had been well trained to such things in Ireland. 
 
 Neither did she find it at all a bore to hear about 
 Murray's farming and fishing projects ; nor even 
 object to be introduced to Dr. Wilson, who had come 
 up to speak to him about something connected with 
 the boats.
 
 330 THE STOR Y OF S YL VIA, 
 
 And after he was gone a heavy snow shower came 
 on, and she and Murray took shelter in a hay-loft, 
 where Floss seated herself among the piles of hay, and 
 Murray lay at her feet. 
 
 " Well," he said, " you don't think Dr. Wilson such 
 an unredeemed sinner as Sylvia does, I hope ? " 
 
 " I think he has got one of the saddest faces I ever 
 saw," said Floss. 
 
 " And I don't believe Sylvia has ever known what 
 a moment's trouble was," said Murray, a little bitterly, 
 c< and so she can see no excuse for him." 
 
 Floss was not anxious to get on the subject of 
 Sylvia. 
 
 " Has he a story Dr. Wilson, I mean ?" she said. 
 
 "I dare say he has, though I don't know it; and, 
 you see, having known the poor fellow all his life, I 
 don't care to give him up," said Murray; "besides, 
 there is no one else here to speak to and I, of all 
 people, have no right to be a Pharisee." 
 
 And Murray turned away his head, flushing, and 
 busily making the hay into wisps as he spoke. 
 
 " I have been a bad bargain for Sylvia," he said, 
 "and I am afraid she isn't happy here. It's not a 
 particularly comfortable house for any one to stop in, 
 I am ashamed to say, but you have always been so 
 good " 
 
 " It is very pleasant for me to have been able to 
 come," said Floss, with a desperate clinging to com- 
 monplaces. 
 
 " Do you remember the days when you used to 
 be my confessor ? " said Murray, still with his face 
 hidden. "That is the reason I can speak to you like
 
 FLOS&S VISIT TO EENAH. 331 
 
 this. I suppose Sylvia has told you about me, and 
 what I want you to believe is that I have some good 
 in me still." 
 
 " You know I do believe it," said Floss, rising 
 abruptly, " and if I can be of any good to Sylvia I 
 shall be very glad. We must go in now, Mr. Murray, 
 for the rain is over." 
 
 And to herself Floss was saying, " If this goes on, 
 I shall not be able to stay long." 
 
 But after that first day things were less difficult. 
 Floss could listen to Murray without a painfully vivid 
 remembrance of their conversations long ago. 
 
 And certainly an improvement seemed to have 
 come to Eenah. Murray seldom, if ever, spent his 
 evenings in the village now, and he and Sylvia were 
 friendly, if cold. Dr. Wilson, too, became less deter- 
 mined to confine himself to the billiard-room on his 
 visits to Eenah, and was by no means unwilling to 
 find himself in Floss's company. 
 
 " You have tamed, if not reformed the bear," said 
 Sylvia, in delighted amusement. " A little mild flir- 
 tation would be a great cheer up to me ; do you 
 think he is educated up to that point yet?" 
 
 " I am afraid not yet," said Floss, laughing. 
 
 "Well, if things goon like this I shall make a point 
 of getting Arthur to ask him his intentions," said 
 Sylvia, " though I must say I much prefer my own 
 choice for you Captain Crayshaw !" 
 
 But matters did not long remain in this satisfactory 
 condition. 
 
 Sylvia was at first delighted that Murray should 
 stay at home and make himself agreeable to Floss,
 
 332 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 and that Dr. Wilson should be tamed by her 
 society. 
 
 It made the house much pleasanter and less lonely. 
 But after a time she began to perceive, to her own 
 unmitigated astonishment, that she herself was be- 
 ginning to play a secondary part. It was very extra- 
 ordinary. 
 
 That Floss, of all people, should be preferred to her 
 Floss, who had never in her life occurred to Sylvia 
 in the light of a rival ! But it was undoubtedly a 
 fact that a few gracious words from her did not make 
 Dr. Wilson show the least desire to transfer his 
 allegiance ; and though she had no doubt an advance 
 on her part would make Arthur as devoted as ever, 
 still he seemed uncommonly fond of talking to Floss. 
 
 Of course it was a very good thing that he should 
 give up his visits to the village to a great extent, and 
 that he should never once have taken more wine than 
 was good for him since Floss's arrival. Still still it 
 was an undoubted fact that Sylvia was beginning to 
 wish for the end of her visit. 
 
 A fact, too, that her newborn civility to Dr. Wilson 
 relapsed into positive rudeness, and that an indefinable 
 something came into her manner to Floss, which 
 the latter vaguely felt, and then blamed herself for 
 imagining. 
 
 Floss did not quite know what to think of the state 
 of things at Eenah : sometimes she hoped they were 
 improving, sometimes Sylvia's manner filled her with 
 dismay. With regard to Murray, she began to 
 wonder if what Sylvia had told her on the night of 
 her arrival had not been exaggerated. Whatever
 
 FLOSS'S VISIT TO EENAH. 333 
 
 his wife's manner might be, he was always consistently 
 friendly and considerate ; and as for Sylvia, for a long 
 time Floss refused to believe that she could be un- 
 welcome in this house to which she had been so 
 earnestly entreated to come. 
 
 But at last one day Sylvia left her no longer any 
 possibility of mistake. 
 
 Floss had come in from one of her farmyard tours 
 of inspection with Murray, those same tours which 
 Sylvia had urged upon her on her arrival, and she 
 came into the drawing-room to find Mrs. Murray 
 sitting by the fire in a most disconsolate frame of mind. 
 
 Floss, flushed with cold and exercise, was looking 
 very bright and almost pretty, and was in a most 
 cheerful frame of mind. 
 
 " Where's Dicky ? " she said, ignoring the ill- 
 humour expressed in every line of Sylvia's small 
 person. 
 
 " I don't know, I am sure," said Sylvia, in the 
 pettish tone that had grown on her since her 
 marriage, but was chiefly reserved for Murray. " He 
 is getting most fearfully troublesome, and I really 
 wish you would not stay out and leave him in my 
 charge so long." 
 
 " I have only been over the farm with Mr. Murray," 
 said Floss, surprised at Sylvia's tone. 
 
 " You have taken a very long time to go over the 
 farm," said Sylvia, disagreeably. " It is a great pity 
 it is not you who are Arthur's wife." 
 
 " Sylvia, what do you mean ? " said Floss, flushing. 
 
 In truth Sylvia meant nothing but to make herself 
 disagreeable.
 
 334 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 " I don't mean anything," she said. " If you choose 
 to spend the whole day with Arthur, I don't mind in 
 the least, only I wish you would not leave Dicky on 
 my hands." 
 
 " Sylvia ! " exclaimed Floss, too utterly dismayed 
 just then for anger. 
 
 Had she been too much with Murray ? 
 
 Had Sylvia any reason for her words ? 
 
 "I certainly never expected you to speak to me 
 like this, Sylvia, she said, in a low voice ; " I think 
 you are both unkind and unjust. The best thing I 
 can do is to arrange to go home to-morrow I sup- 
 pose it could not very well be managed to-day ? " 
 
 " You can do as you like about that," said Sylvia. 
 " I don't want to turn you out, I am sure, but if you 
 choose to take offence " 
 
 " Of course I shall go," said Floss, more steadily. 
 
 And only then did she realise, with a pang of 
 pain and dismay, what going away would mean to 
 her. 
 
 The sooner she went home the better, after all, she 
 thought, with anger which was more for herself than 
 Sylvia. 
 
 At luncheon she mentioned her departure to 
 Murray, carefully choosing a time when Sylvia was 
 present. 
 
 " Would it be convenient for you to send me to the 
 station to-morrow, Mr. Murray," she said, just before 
 she and Sylvia left the room. 
 
 " To send you to the station ! What on earth do 
 you want to go to the station for?" said Murray, with 
 startled abruptness.
 
 FLOSS'S VISIT TO EENAH. 335 
 
 " Because Dicky and I are going to make our way 
 home," said Floss. 
 
 " Home ! " exclaimed Murray, flushing suddenly. 
 " You are not going home now yet. You said 
 nothing about it yesterday. Sylvia, do you hear? 
 It is absurd for Miss Egerton to talk of going to 
 Ireland at present, isn't it ? " 
 
 All this time Sylvia had been silent. Silent, and 
 for the first time in her life experiencing what it was 
 to be thoroughly jealous. 
 
 She had not wasted much effort in endeavouring to 
 retain Murray's affection. She had taken it for 
 granted that, having been once in love with her, he 
 would always remain so. He was her own special 
 possession, and there must be no suspicion of his 
 wavering in his allegiance. 
 
 " It is for Floss to decide what she wants to do," 
 she said coldly. 
 
 Murray looked at her with astonishment. 
 
 " Try and persuade Miss Egerton to stay with us a 
 little longer," he said. 
 
 " I will leave that to you," said Sylvia, rising. " You 
 are much more likely to succeed." 
 
 The door closed after her with a bang, and Murray 
 stared blankly at Floss. 
 
 " What does she mean ? " he said. " Has she been 
 disagreeable to you ? Is that why you speak of 
 going ? " 
 
 " I speak of going because it is really necessary," 
 said Floss, steadily. " You know how hard it is for 
 me to get away from home." 
 
 " They don't need you there as much as we do
 
 336 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 here," said Murray, earnestly. " Don't let a few 
 pettish words from Sylvia drive you away ! I know 
 it is a pleasure to her to have you she has been 
 looking forward to it for so long. And as for me " 
 
 '' It is very kind of you to say all this," said Floss. 
 
 " It is not kind at all ! " said Murray, vehemently. 
 " If you knew what a difference it makes to this house 
 to have you here to have somebody who is always 
 ready to talk and sympathise ! I am sure I must have 
 bored you often since you came here." 
 
 " You have not bored me at all I have enjoyed 
 being here very much," said Floss, quietly ; " but 
 everything must come to an end, however pleasant." 
 
 " But not so soon," pleaded Murray ; " not in such 
 a hurry ! Stay a week longer. You have not seen 
 any of the pretty walks about here." 
 
 " I really must go," said Floss, rising. 
 
 Murray rose too, and moved to open the door for 
 her. 
 
 " If you have made up your mind, there is no use 
 in my saying any more," he said sullenly. 
 
 But if he said no more to Floss just then, he did 
 not let Sylvia off so easily. When he found she was 
 not in the drawing-room, he followed her upstairs and 
 went to her room. 
 
 She was then curled up on the sofa with a book in 
 her hand, a fact which in itself proved there was 
 something abnormal in the state of her feelings. She 
 greeted Murray with a pout and a frown on her pretty 
 face, which made her look more absurdly like a 
 naughty child than ever. But he was much too 
 angry to be inclined to treat her anything but
 
 FLOSS'S VISIT TO EENAH. 337 
 
 seriously. He shut the door behind him with un- 
 necessary emphasis, and remained standing where 
 he was. 
 
 " What have you been saying to Miss Egerton ? " 
 he said sharply. 
 
 Sylvia mutinously shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 " Why such tragedy airs ? " she said contemptuously. 
 " What is all this fuss about ? I simply told Floss 
 that Dicky had been very troublesome when you and 
 she were out this morning, and she chose to take 
 offence." 
 
 "It was more than that," said Murray, obstinately. 
 
 " Oh, has she been abusing me to you ? " said 
 Sylvia. 
 
 " You know perfectly well that she hasn't," said 
 Murray, vehemently. 
 
 " Don't lose your temper," returned Sylvia, with 
 provoking coolness. " Don't you think this kind of 
 quarrelling is rather vulgar? If nothing will content 
 you but the whole truth, I will tell you, though I dare 
 say you won't like it." 
 
 " Tell me," said Murray. 
 
 "The fact is," said Sylvia, giving herself a little 
 wriggle into a more comfortable position on the sofa, 
 "that though personally I don't care in the least, I 
 object on principle to raise a scandal in this very 
 easily scandalised neighbourhood, and I also object 
 to be left in charge of a very troublesome and naughty 
 little boy, while you and Floss ramble over the 
 country together." 
 
 And then she began to feel considerably fright- 
 ened, and did not venture to look at Murray. 
 
 83
 
 338 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 He did not speak for a few minutes not till the 
 silence was becoming so oppressive that she was 
 gathering her courage to look at him. 
 
 " I suppose this is what you said to Floss ? " he said 
 at last, very quietly. But from that very quietness 
 in his slow voice, Sylvia knew he was roused to the 
 bitter anger which was very rare with him. 
 
 " Oh dear, why will you make a fuss ? " she said 
 petulantly. " I think I had better go to Ireland 
 instead of Floss it is very evident that you would 
 rather she would stay ! " 
 
 " Is it so very strange if I should wish a person 
 to stay who is always bright and kind and sweet- 
 tempered," said Murray " who things of everybody 
 but herself, and makes the house comfortable as it 
 never was before ? " 
 
 " You ought to have married her ! " said Sylvia, 
 bitterly ; " it is really a great pity you did not marry 
 her ! " 
 
 " I wish I had," said Murray, shortly. 
 
 "You are admirably frank," said Sylvia. "I was 
 right enough, you see, when I thought you cared for 
 her." 
 
 "You were quite right," said Murray, in a con- 
 strained voice. " I have to thank you for informing 
 me of the fact, however, for this morning I did not 
 know it myself. But as for her " he paused " don't 
 insult her by daring to think she has ever looked 
 upon me except as a friend and your husband." 
 
 " That is all very fine," said Sylvia, shrugging her 
 shoulders. " You know very well it is not the truth. 
 If you have nothing more to say to me "
 
 FLOSS'S VISIT TO EENAH. 339 
 
 " I have this to say to you," said Murray : " I sup- 
 pose you will agree with me when I say that it is 
 impossible for us to live together any longer ? " 
 
 " I shall be very glad to agree with you," said 
 Sylvia. 
 
 " You as well as I realise by this time what a mis- 
 take our marriage has been," pursued Murray. " If 
 you are willing, I will write to your father to-night, 
 and nobody shall bring us together again this time. 
 Are you willing ? " 
 
 " Quite willing." 
 
 " Then there is no more to be said ? " 
 
 " No more ; so I think you had better go down and 
 entertain Floss, as I certainly shall not ; but I would 
 be very much obliged if you would dispose of Dicky 
 at the same time, for I hear him in the passage." 
 
 "You shall not be troubled with him, but you will 
 oblige me by being civil to Miss Egerton while she 
 is in this house." 
 
 And then Murray walked out of the room. 
 
 Sylvia's serene attitude and contemptuous smile 
 lasted till the door had closed behind him. Then 
 she gave way to sobs and tears, hiding her face in the 
 sofa cushion. She was very miserable indeed, and, 
 what was more, bitterly jealous. 
 
 As long as Murray's love had been unmistakably 
 hers she had valued it little, but now that she was 
 beginning dimly to realise that she had lost it for 
 ever, never before had he seemed to her so desirable.
 
 CHAPTER LVI. 
 WHAT MIGHT HA VE BEEN. 
 
 MURRAY met Dicky in the passage in a rather dis- 
 consolate frame of mind. Everybody was very dull 
 to-day, he had decided, and no amusement seemed to 
 be obtainable anywhere. 
 
 " Where is Sylvia ? " he said ; " I have nothing to 
 do, and I want her to play battledore-and-shuttlecock, 
 if she is not too cross." 
 
 " Never mind Sylvia," said Murray, hastily ; " go 
 and put on your hat and coat, and I will take you 
 out." 
 
 After all, if Murray was not very fond of Dicky 
 personally, at least he was Floss's brother, and there 
 would be comfort as well as annoyance in his com- 
 pany. Plenty of annoyance, for Dicky was always 
 troublesome, but at any rate it was better than letting 
 Sylvia have any excuse for further complaint. 
 
 " Can I go ? " exclaimed Dicky, delightedly. 
 " Don't tell Floss, for it is going to snow, and she will 
 say I must not." 
 
 " Oh, you can go," said Murray, scarcely heeding 
 him. " Get ready, and wait for me in the hall ; I 
 want to speak to your sister,"
 
 WHA T MIGHT HA VE BEEN. 34 1 
 
 " Is it to ask her if I may go ? " said Dicky, 
 anxiously. 
 
 " It has nothing at all to do with you," said Murray, 
 with a sudden laugh. 
 
 He went on to the drawing-room. 
 
 Floss was sitting by the fire in a low chair, knit- 
 ting, and he went straight over to her and stood 
 beside her, looking down at her. 
 
 " I have come to say that I think you are quite 
 right in deciding to go," he said. " Apologies for 
 Sylvia's behaviour to you are useless. I will force 
 her to apologise to you herself if you wish, as she has 
 neither the good taste or good feeling to do so of her 
 own accord." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Murray," said Floss, flushing, " she said 
 nothing I want no apologies. You are angry novv,and 
 you will be sorry afterwards for speaking in this way." 
 
 " No, I shall not," said Murray, roughly. " I was 
 desperately fond of Sylvia once, and imagined she 
 was an angel because she had a pretty face " 
 
 " She is so young " 
 
 " It is no use. If I were to discover that she was 
 an epitome of all the virtues, it would be too late 
 now," said Murray, bitterly. " For this once I shall 
 tell you the whole truth. Sylvia was right enough in 
 being jealous of you. Thank God, you care nothing 
 for me like a fool, I threw away my chance when I 
 might perhaps have had one. This house has been 
 a different place since you came here, and my life has 
 been different. I swear to you that till to-day I did 
 not know what you were to me, and that after to-day 
 I shall never speak to you like this again."
 
 342 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 They were both very white. Floss sat still, trying 
 to conquer the sudden guilty pang of joy which his 
 words had brought her. And he thought her too 
 pure and good to care ! 
 
 Ought she not to confess her unworthiness to him ? 
 And then Floss, recognising the temptation, realised 
 what a relief it would be to tell him all. Recognised, 
 too, what the confession, the knowledge of her love, 
 would mean to a man like Murray. 
 
 " I have hurt and vexed you," he said humbly, as 
 she did not speak, "yet if I ever make anything of 
 my life it will be thanks to you. God bless you I 
 know how immeasurably above me you are." He 
 stooped and reverently kissed her hand. 
 
 Then he left the room in silence, left it before Floss 
 had gained voice to say one single word of comfort or 
 encouragement 
 
 The thoughts that thronged into her head a 
 moment after must all remain unspoken now, for she 
 realised that there must be no further words on this 
 subject between them. What a miserable, wicked 
 girl she was she of whom he thought so highly. 
 
 Why could she not restrain that unreasonable feel- 
 ing of gladness and exultation ? He loved her. In 
 spite of everything, though they must never speak 01 
 it again, never meet again if they could help it, still 
 nothing could ever make that untrue !
 
 CHAPTER LVII. 
 
 IN THE SNOW. 
 
 IT was nearly nine o'clock. Dinner had been gone 
 through a dreary tete-a-tete dinner, during which 
 Sylvia and Floss exchanged as few words as possible, 
 and then the former had gone back to her room. 
 
 At nine o'clock Floss came along the passage, and 
 tapped at the door of Sylvia's room. 
 
 " Sylvia, may I come in ? " 
 
 Sylvia came to the door and opened it, standing 
 there with unfriendly countenance. 
 
 " I could not help coming to you," Floss said, with 
 humble haste. Was it not for her to be humble to 
 Sylvia, in remembrance of the great wrong she had 
 done her ? " I am getting so frightened about Dicky. 
 I hear Mr. Murray took him out after lunch, and they 
 have never been in since." 
 
 " That is not at all unusual," said Sylvia, coldly. 
 
 " But I am sure Mr. Murray would not keep Dicky 
 out so long," urged Floss, "unless something has 
 happened. And it has been snowing for hours." 
 
 " I really can't help it," said Sylvia, shortly. " I 
 suppose Arthur is down at the fishery, but probably 
 you know better than I." 
 
 343
 
 344 THE STOR Y OF S YL VIA. 
 
 " But would you send somebody down ? " pleaded 
 Floss. 
 
 " In this snow ? " remarked Sylvia. " The servants 
 would scarcely thank me if I sent them two miles at 
 such an hour on such a night as this, and Arthur 
 would be highly gratified." 
 
 Floss turned unwillingly away. 
 
 " I might at least go down to the gate," she said. 
 
 "Oh, yes, if you like," said Sylvia, pettishly. 
 " Arthur ought to be flattered." 
 
 She shut the door, leaving Floss no time to reply, 
 and the latter went sadly downstairs into the hall, 
 and opened the door to look out into the night. 
 There was no sign of anybody. It was very dark, 
 and the snow was falling steadily enough. Floss 
 shivered as she wrapped herself in a shawl. - Ridi- 
 culous though it might be, she could restrain her 
 uneasiness no longer. It was certainly very strange 
 that Murray should keep out delicate little Dicky on 
 such a night as this, and when he knew she would be 
 anxious, unless and Floss shivered when she remem- 
 bered what Sylvia had told her about his nights in 
 the village. 
 
 The snow was fairly deep on the avenue, but she 
 could guide herself by the trees, and on the road she 
 managed to make her way by keeping close to the 
 hedge on one side. Besides, the snow itself pre- 
 vented total darkness. It was very strange to find 
 herself alone on the silent road. The snow fell with 
 soft regularity, covering her hat and her shoulders. 
 
 She plodded on steadily enough, but the stillness 
 was oppressive. She was getting near the village
 
 IN THE SNOW. 345 
 
 now when she turned the next corner she would see 
 it ; and as she realised this, in a sudden revulsion of 
 feeling she began to wonder how she would meet 
 Murray's astonishment for of course he would be 
 astonished. 
 
 Then a dark figure came round the corner with a 
 suddenness that startled her, though she might have 
 recollected she could not have heard an advance in 
 the snow. 
 
 Floss remembered afterwards, with surprise, that 
 personally she was not conscious of being in the least 
 alarmed. The night, the lonely road, and the solitary 
 man's figure, only immediately renewed her fears that 
 something had happened. 
 
 She had been beginning to think that perhaps 
 Sylvia had been right she would have been better 
 at home ; but now in a moment this feeling vanished. 
 When the advancing man seemed inclined to pass 
 her, she had no hesitation about stopping him. 
 
 " Are you going up to Eenah ? " she said. 
 
 " Good God ! Miss Egerton ! " exclaimed he, and 
 Floss recognised Murray's voice ; " have you heard 
 but no it is impossible " 
 
 " I have heard nothing," said Floss, breathlessly. 
 " What has happened ? You are safe it is Dicky ? " 
 
 " Yes, it is Dicky," said Murray. 
 
 He took her hand and drew it through his arm, and 
 together they turned to the village. 
 
 It seemed to Floss as if she knew everything, as if 
 there was no more to be said. 
 
 " Is he dead ? " she asked mechanically, but she did 
 not seem to require an answer
 
 346 THE STOR Y OF SYL VIA. 
 
 " I don't know," said Murray, in a low tone. 
 
 " How did it happen ? " 
 
 " He was on the pier it is very slippery at the 
 end," said Murray, in a hard voice. 
 
 " And where were you ? " 
 
 " I," said Murray, bitterly " I was not even there 
 when it happened. I have not even the small conso- 
 lation of having done my best to save him." 
 
 They had been walking quickly on as they spoke 
 in hurried sentences, and as they reached the village 
 a silence fell between them. Murray broke it at last. 
 
 " It is not my fault that I insult you with my 
 presence," he said ; " if I had not met you I would 
 never have gone near you again. The truth is this. 
 When I left the house this afternoon I made up my 
 mind never to drink again. I broke that resolution, 
 as I have broken a great many others. If I had been 
 sober and looked after Dicky, this would not have 
 happened. Here, this is the house where he is; I 
 shall not go in." 
 
 And Murray turned away into the darkness. 
 
 As for Floss, she went steadily enough into the 
 house. The kitchen was full of people, but there was 
 a compassionate hush as she entered, and they made 
 way for Dr. Wilson, who came forward to her. 
 
 " You have heard ? " he said. " I must prepare you 
 for the worst " 
 
 " I know," said Floss, and she followed him silently 
 into the next room. 
 
 She was very quiet and composed. Even the still 
 little form on the bed moved her to no show of 
 emotion. He had been troublesome to other people,
 
 IN THE SNOW. 347 
 
 but to Floss he had never been troublesome. He had. 
 been a favourite with nobody, but perhaps for that 
 very reason he had been dearer to Floss, and more 
 entirely her own. What was even Murray to her 
 then, in this grief which she felt no one could share ? 
 
 Three days later, Murray and Sylvia had another 
 interview. He came into her room, looking very 
 white and grave. 
 
 " I suppose you have been wondering what had 
 become of me these last few days ? " he said. 
 
 " Not at all," replied Sylvia, standing by the 
 window, her little figure very stiff and erect. " The 
 only thing that surprised me was to hear that you 
 had been to the funeral this morning." 
 
 " I have not been drinking, if that is what you 
 mean," said Murray, quietly. " I stayed away simply 
 because I thought it would be pleasanter to Floss. 
 Where is she ? " 
 
 " She is in her room, but I will call her if you like," 
 said Sylvia, with sarcastic sweetness. 
 
 " I have no intention of ever seeing her again," 
 said Murray, steadily ; " what I came for was to talk 
 to you." 
 
 " I am immensely flattered, I am sure." 
 
 " I am going to London to-night," said Murray, 
 abruptly. 
 
 " To London ! " 
 
 The pretty pink faded out of Sylvia's cheeks, and 
 consternation succeeded her ironical composure. 
 " As we agreed, I wrote to your father a couple of
 
 348 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 .days ago, and I had a telegram to-day to say he was 
 coming to fetch you," pursued Murray. 
 
 Sylvia was still silent, her eyes filling with dismayed 
 tears. 
 
 " Business arrangements I suppose you will leave 
 to your father," he went on. "And you can explain 
 things as you like to every one. I have given no 
 reasons." 
 
 " And what is going to become of you ? " said 
 Sylvia, with a sob in her voice. 
 
 " I am flattered by your interest," said Murray, 
 coldly. " I shall carry out my old project of joining 
 the Turkish army. I have made arrangements, and I 
 have settled about the farm here. Dr. Wilson will 
 undertake the fishery." 
 
 " Oh," said Sylvia, " then you have quite made up 
 your mind ? " 
 
 " Made up my mind ? of course I have," said he 
 composedly. "There is no use prolonging the business 
 of saying good-bye. I hope we part good friends, 
 Sylvia, and that you will forgive me for having been 
 such a bad husband to you." 
 
 He took her hand, and stooped and kissed her 
 cheek coldly enough ; but Sylvia clung to him, sud- 
 denly breaking down into sobs and tears. 
 
 " Don't go away ! Oh, I don't want you to go 
 away ! " she cried. 
 
 "Look here, Sylvia, this is nonsense. You yourself 
 agreed with me that the best thing for us is to part, 
 and I thought I was attending to your wishes as well 
 as my own." 
 
 " But I don't want it. I will stay on here oh,
 
 IN THE SNOW. 349 
 
 Arthur, I will, really ! I can stand it I would 
 rather" 
 
 " But / can't stand it," he said slowly. 
 
 " Don't you mind my going away ? Aren't you 
 sorry ? Don't you care about me any longer ? " pleaded 
 Sylvia, piteously. 
 
 " Sylvia, listen to me," said Murray, putting her 
 away from him and looking at her steadily. " You 
 know very well that in a day or two things would be 
 as bad as ever. You would be miserable, and so 
 should I. Let me go, my dear it will be better for 
 us both. I do not think you really care much for me, 
 and I do not care for you, as I used to do." 
 
 Sylvia pulled her hands away from him, and threw 
 herself on the sofa, sobbing bitterly. 
 
 " You don't love me you love Floss." 
 
 " It is quite true," said Murray, without flinching ; 
 " I don't love you, and I do love Floss, but I shall 
 never see her again as long as I live." 
 
 Sylvia sobbed on. 
 
 " Good-bye," said Murray. He laid his hand gently 
 on her ruffled curly head ; then he quietly left the 
 room. 
 
 And Sylvia, with her face in the cushions, sobbed 
 on, miserable, piteous sobs. Floss found her there 
 an hour later when she came in, in her black dress, 
 and Sylvia was ready to cling to her, forgetful of 
 the coldness of their half-reconciliation, forgetful of 
 everything, except that she was very miserable, and 
 wanted some one to recount her woes to. 
 
 But Floss could not forget so easily, though she 
 would not repulse the girl.
 
 350 THE STORY OF SYLVIA. 
 
 " Arthur is gone to Turkey, and I am miserable," 
 sobbed she. 
 
 She was too absorbed in her own sorrows even to 
 wonder how the news would affect Floss. A start 
 and a sudden white look in her sad face were all the 
 outward changes, and she did not speak. 
 
 " Oh, what shall I do ? what shall I do ? " Sylvia 
 wailed. "And Arthur promised to take me to 
 London in the spring, and now I shall go nowhere 
 but to Delagherty nowhere as long as I live ! Oh, 
 I don't believe you are listening ! What does it matter 
 to you you don't care !" 
 
 " I am sorry for you," said Floss, in a low voice. 
 
 " And I have not even a decent hat to wear going 
 home ! " said Sylvia, with a fresh burst of sobs. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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