Summary

Portrait of Elizabeth Gaskell Elizabeth Gaskell Sylvia's Lovers — Chapter XI: Visions of the future

Every time during that summer that Philip saw his cousin, he thought her prettier than she had ever been before; some new touch of colour, some fresh sweet charm, seemed to have been added, just as every summer day calls out new beauty in the flowers. And this was not the addition of Philip's fancy. Hester Rose, who met Sylvia on rare occasions, came back each time with a candid, sad acknowledgement in her heart that it was no wonder that Sylvia was so much admired and loved.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Elizabeth Gaskell Elizabeth Gaskell Sylvia's Lovers — Chapter XI: Visions of the future

He himself had been annoyed more at the idea that Sylvia would be spoken of as having been at a rough piece of rustic gaiety--a yearly festival for the lower classes of Yorkshire servants, out-door as well as in-door--than at the affair itself, for he had learnt from his informant how instantaneous her appearance had been. He stood watching his aunt's troubled face, and almost wishing that he had not spoken. At last she heaved a deep sigh, and stirring the fire, as if by this little household occupation to compose her mind, she said--
'It's a pity as wenches aren't lads, or married folk.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Elizabeth Gaskell Elizabeth Gaskell Sylvia's Lovers — Chapter XI: Visions of the future

Love was a vanity, a worldliness not to be spoken about, or even thought about. Once or twice before the Robsons came into the neighbourhood, an idea had crossed her mind that possibly the quiet, habitual way in which she and Philip lived together, might drift them into matrimony at some distant period; and she could not bear the humble advances which Coulson, Philip's fellow-lodger, sometimes made.
Source: Wikisource

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