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"It's time you were at home, Sylvia we're overstaying our holiday. I'll make sailing arrangements to-morrow." So, by the end of May, they were back in the little brick cottage again, and the two capable servants were there, too, for there must be no danger, now, of Sylvia's getting over-tired.
Bassett and Marian called promptly the former a trifle dazed by Sylvia's sudden advent, and Marian genuinely cordial. Mrs. Bassett had heard of the approaching visit with liveliest interest. A year before, when Marian had reported the presence in Mrs. Owen's house at Indianapolis of a strange girl with Professor Kelton, her curiosity had been piqued, but she soon dismissed the matter.
Seems like there's plenty of nice girls as ought to have a chance. An' Sylvia's awful high-toned, an' stubborn as a mule I dunno's she an' Austin will be able to stick it out, he's some set himself. I shouldn't wonder if it all got broke off, an' I'm not sayin' it mightn't be for the best if it was. But I don't deny Sylvia's real pretty an' generous, an' I like her spunk.
He said he was in love with me. I thought he was he certainly acted that way. Saying fresh things, and and always trying to touch me and that's the way men usually do when they begin to fall in love, isn't it, Sylvia?" "No, darling, not usually not some kinds of men." And Sylvia's thoughts flew back, for one happy instant, to the man who had knelt at her feet on Christmas night.
As their glances met he leant forward and also put a twenty-franc piece on the green cloth close to where Sylvia's money lay. The traditional words rang out: "Faites vos jeux, Messieurs, Mesdames! Le jeu est fait! Rien ne va plus!" And then Sylvia saw her stake and that of the Count doubled. There were now four gold pieces where two had been.
"I can scarcely deem her of the earth, earthy. No wonder that I call her Sylph! Methinks she will fade into the moonlight, which falls upon her through the window. Or, in the open air, she might flit away upon the breeze, like a wreath of mist!" Sylvia's eyes grew yet brighter. She waved her hand to Edgar Vaughan, with a gesture of ethereal triumph. "Farewell!" she said.
Is it a Kaffir hut?" "No," said Burke. He spoke somewhat shortly. The object she indicated was undoubtedly a hut; to Sylvia's unaccustomed eyes it might have been a cattle-shed. It was close to the dry watercourse, a little lonely hovel standing among stones and a straggling growth of coarse grass. Something impelled Sylvia to check her horse. She glanced at her companion as if half-afraid.
As the service went on, ill-checked sobs rose from behind the two girls, who were among the foremost in the crowd, and by-and-by the cry and the wail became general. Sylvia's tears rained down her face, and her distress became so evident that it attracted the attention of many in that inner circle.
The Colonel thinks that nothing is so good for a young man as an early marriage though of course Jerry isn't so very, very young any more. He the Colonel is a great believer in marriage " Her voice died away into murmurs. Her long, thin throat contracted in a visible swallow. At this point only Sylvia's perception of the other's anguished embarrassment prevented her from literally running away.
"I haven't until now," Sylvia's white cheeks gave the lie to her nonchalant tone, "but father said he believed Nat would be good to me. I thought it very strange at the time, but he seemed much more certain that Nat would be kind than that you and Uncle Calvin would." "Sylvia, you mustn't be willful. You're a young girl. You must let your uncle and me think for you.
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