Sylvie

“ Sylvie was radiantly beautiful. Her face always changed so with her moods. Every feature had a perfect sculptured look, but intensely human,—the straight nose with the flexible, sensitive nostrils, quivering at any sudden breath, the dainty chin and white throat, the red curved lips that seem to smile at some inward, richly satisfying thought, the large lustrous eyes serious as those of a nun, and the calm, clear brow that seemed to index the strength and fineness of the nature. ”

“ Did you know there was Bible in geometry, Sylvie? I very often go to my old school Euclid for a heavenly comfort."
"I think you go to everything for it—and to everybody with it," said Sylvie, squeezing her friend's hand as he left her on the car-step.
Nothing comes much before we need it. This talk stayed by Sylvie through months afterwards, if not the word of it, always the subtle cheer and strength of it, that nestled into her heart underneath all her upper thinkings and cares of day by day, and would not quite let them settle down upon the living core of it with a hopeless pressure. ”

“ I could not cry over you now, nor kiss you with effusive fondness; but I wish, oh, how passionately I wish, I could save you one pang! I wish I could die in her place! My life is of so little value"—
"I believe God is right," Sylvie answered with a great struggle. "She has used her life so well; she has garnered ripened sheaves of mercy and kindliness and good works. There is not only golden wheat, but the sweetness of rose and violet, the pungent purity and strength of heliotrope, the use, the beauty, every thing. She is ready." ”

“ It was true that Sylvie, rich, lovely, independent, and therefore indifferent to opinions, lived her own life very much according to her own ideas,—but then those ideas were far more simple and unworldly than anybody gave her credit for. She to whom all the courts of Europe were open, preferred to wander in the woods alone, reading some favourite book, to almost any other pleasure,—and as for the admiration which she won by a look or turn of her head wherever she went, nothing in all the world so utterly bored her as this influence of her own charm. ”

“ We came home through the valley, following the Charlepont road which the peasants, without regard to etymology, persistently called Châllepont. The way was deserted, and Sylvie, weary of riding, leaned upon my arm, while I tried to speak of what was in my heart, but, I know not why, could find only trivial words or stilted phrases from some romance that Sylvie might have read. ”

“ Sylvie rose with a haughty air.
"Wish me worlds to conquer at least, or scalps to hang at my belt. No? You ungracious little thing! There is a good-by kiss to show you that I always hold out the right hand of peace."
"Have the carriage, Sylvie: it will not take a moment"—
"No, thank you," in a crisp tone. She would have nothing of these Lawrences just now.
"Fred will get a spicy wife," commented Irene, with a peculiar smile.
"She is never so with him. They get along beautifully," said the mother.
"Fred is too lazy to rouse Sylvie. ”

“ That's what you mean, Sylvie; although we pass just as pleasant hours as if I were a prince, and you the lady of high degree. Well, we have gone over the ground a good many times, and it is always the same thing. I have no fancy for a profession; I have no genius for art, though Miss Lawrence suggests that I might become a man-milliner—is that what you call it? You know, I am staying here because mother and grandmother will not go anywhere else. ”

“ I pleaded. “I can walk as fast as you can, I’m sure.”
Sylvie laughed merrily. “What nonsense!” she cried. “Why, you ca’n’t walk a bit! You’re lying quite flat on your back! You don’t understand these things.”
“I can walk as well as you can,” I repeated. And I tried my best to walk a few steps: but the ground slipped away backwards, quite as 305 fast as I could walk, so that I made no progress at all. Sylvie laughed again.
“There, I told you so! You’ve no idea how funny you look, moving your feet about in the air, as if you were walking! Wait a bit. I’ll ask the Professor what we’d better do.” ”

“ Suddenly the Professor started as if he had been electrified. “Why, I had nearly forgotten the most important part of the entertainment! The Other Professor is to recite a Tale of a Pig—I mean a Pig-Tale,” he corrected himself. “It has Introductory Verses at the beginning, and at the end.”
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“It ca’n’t have Introductory Verses at the end, can it?” said Sylvie.
“Wait till you hear it,” said the Professor: “then you’ll see. I’m not sure it hasn’t some in the middle, as well.” ”

“ The men of her native village are sturdy peasants with rough hands and gaunt, tanned faces. I, the "little Parisian," had won her heart in my frequent visits near Loisy, to my poor uncle, now dead. For the past three years I have been squandering like a lord the modest inheritance left by him, which might have sufficed for a lifetime, and Sylvie, I know, would have helped me save it. Chance returns me a portion, it is not too late.
What is she doing now? She must be asleep.... No, she is not asleep; to-day is the Feast of the Bow, the only one in the year when the dance goes on all night.... ”

“ said Bruno. “It begins miserably, and it ends miserablier. I think I shall cry. Sylvie, please lend me your handkerchief.”
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“I haven’t got it with me,” Sylvie whispered.
“Then I won’t cry,” said Bruno manfully. ”

“ I wish I'd King George here just to tell him my mind.'
The girl clenched her hands, and set her teeth.
'It's terrible hard!' said Hester; 'there's mothers, and wives, looking out for 'em, as if they were stars dropt out o' t' lift.'
'But can we do nothing for 'em?' cried Sylvia. 'Let us go into t' thick of it and do a bit of help; I can't stand quiet and see 't!' Half crying, she pushed forwards to the door; but Philip held her back.
'Sylvie! you must not. Don't be silly; it's the law, and no one can do aught against it, least of all women and lasses. ”

“ The case did not, I assured him, admit of a doubt.
"The reason why Sylvie's so cross——" Bruno went on very seriously, almost sadly.
Sylvie's eyes grew large and round with surprise at this new line of enquiry——her rosy face being perfectly radiant with good humour. But she said nothing.
"Wouldn't it be better to tell me after the lessons are over?" I suggested.
"Very well," Bruno said with a resigned air: "only she wo'n't be cross then."
"There's only three lessons to do," said Sylvie. "Spelling, and Geography, and Singing." ”

“ Sylvia, hastily wiping her tears on her apron, ran out and threw her arms round her father, as if to burst out afresh on his neck.
'Nay, nay, my wench, it's thee as mun be a comfort to mother: nay, nay, or thou'll niver hear what a've got to say. Sylvie, my lass, a'm main and sorry a were so short wi' thee last neet; a ax thy pardon, lass, a were cross to thee, and sent thee to thy bed wi' a sore heart. ”

“ I said, trying to lead her away. “Wish good-bye to the poor hare, and come and look for blackberries.”
“Good-bye, poor hare!” Sylvie obediently repeated, looking over her shoulder at it as we turned away. And then, all in a moment, her self-command gave way. Pulling her hand out of mine, she ran back to where the dead hare was lying, and flung herself down at its side in such an agony of grief as I could hardly have believed possible in so young a child.
“Oh, my darling, my darling!” she moaned, over and over again. “And God meant your life to be so beautiful!” ”

“ But I thinks it isn’t ca’n’t, it’s wo’n’t.”
10
“Says she ca’n’t dream!” the puzzled Warden repeated.
“She do say it,” Bruno persisted. “When I says to her ‘Let’s stop lessons!’, she says ‘Oh, I ca’n’t dream of letting oo stop yet!’”
“He always wants to stop lessons,” Sylvie explained, “five minutes after we begin!”
“Five minutes’ lessons a day!” said the Warden. “You won’t learn much at that rate, little man!”
“That’s just what Sylvie says,” Bruno rejoined. “She says I wo’n’t learn my lessons. And I tells her, over and over, I ca’n’t learn ’em. And what doos oo think she says? ”

“ I may tell you, besides, that she had no wings (I don't believe in Fairies with wings) , and that she had quantities of long brown hair and large earnest brown eyes, and then I shall have done all I can to give you an idea of her.
{Image...Fairy-sylvie}
Sylvie (I found out her name afterwards) had knelt down, just as I was doing, to help the Beetle; but it needed more than a little stick for her to get it on its legs again; it was as much as she could do, with both arms, to roll the heavy thing over ”

“ But dunnot mak' an ado about it, let 'em think it's just our common way. If any one says aught about how good t' vittle is, tak' it calm, and say we'n better i' t' house,—it'll mak' 'em eat wi' a better appetite, and think the more on us. Sylvie, I'm much beholden t' ye for comin' so early, and helpin' t' lasses, but yo' mun come in t' house-place now, t' folks is gatherin', an' yo'r cousin's been asking after yo' a'ready.'
Molly gave her a nudge, which made Sylvia's face go all aflame with angry embarrassment. ”

“ T' lass upstairs 'll like nought better than t' curl hersel' round a secret, and purr o'er it, just as t' oud cat does o'er her blind kitten. But thou'll be wanting to see t' lass, a'll be bound. An oud man like me isn't as good company as a pretty lass.' Laughing a low rich laugh over his own wit, Daniel went to the bottom of the stairs, and called, 'Sylvie, Sylvie! ”

“ Bruno carelessly replied: "must think."
"A child's first view of life," the Earl remarked, with that sweet sad smile of his, "is that it is a period to be spent in accumulating portable property. That view gets modified as the years glide away." And he held out his hand to Sylvie, who had placed herself by me, looking a little shy of him.
But the gentle old man was not one with whom any child, human or fairy, could be shy for long; and she had very soon deserted my hand for his——Bruno alone remaining faithful to his first friend. ”

“ And he filled a glass and handed it to Bruno. "Drink this, my dear, and you'll be quite another man!"
"Who shall I be?" said Bruno, pausing in the act of putting it to his lips.
"Don't ask so many questions!" Sylvie interposed, anxious to save the poor old man from further bewilderment. "Suppose we get the Professor to tell us a story."
Bruno adopted the idea with enthusiasm. "Please do!" he cried eagerly. "Sumfin about tigers——and bumble-bees——and robin-redbreasts, oo knows!"
"Why should you always have live things in stories?" ”

“ Sylvia had her way, and talked things out with the agonised Celeste. And the next day came Aunt Varina, hardly able to contain herself. “Oh, Sylvia, such a horrible thing! To hear such words coming from your little sister’s lips—like the toads and snakes in the fairy story! To think of these ideas festering in a young girl’s brain!” And then again: “Sylvia, your sister declares she will never go to a party again! You are teaching her to hate men! You will make her a STRONG-MINDED woman!”—that was another phrase they had summing up a whole universe of horrors. ”

“ Well, how goes everything on your estate? All well?
Výrava.—Beneficent lord, all goes well. While I enjoy your noble favor, all is well.
Earl.—I am satisfied.
Výrava. (Thanks the Earl and departs with him towards the rear) .
Sylvia. (In the foreground) .—Everything is so beautiful—everything seems desirous of being merry—and yet, to me it is as if a cloud lay on these people. Not in all their faces is there a glow of real pleasure.
Christine.—But what an illusion of your own half blind eyes. I will wager my pony that everything will look more joyous to Countess Sylvia in a little while. ”

“ Sylvia smiled to see with what an ostentation of injured dignity she took the holy water and crossed herself before passing out through the baize door. The old woman's challenging humanity restored to Sylvia her sense of reality; emotion died away like a falling gale at eve, and she walked to the confessional imbued with an intention as practical as if she had been walking up-stairs to tidy her hair. The priest composed himself into a non-committal attitude and waited for Sylvia, who, now that she was kneeling, felt as if she were going to play an unrehearsed part. ”

“ In this third story Sylvia is a little older grown, deep in the problem of just-out-of-college adjustment to the conditions of the "wide, wide world," and in the process of learning, as she puts it, "to live as deep and quick as I can." The scene of the new story is laid partly at Arden Hall and partly in New York and, in her sincere effort to find herself, Sylvia finds love in real fairy tale fashion. ”

“ Sylvia, standing opposite, not looking at Hester, but gazing at the ribbons in the shop window, as if hardly conscious that any one awaited the expression of her wishes, was a great contrast; ready to smile or to pout, or to show her feelings in any way, with a character as undeveloped as a child's, affectionate, wilful, naughty, tiresome, charming, anything, in fact, at present that the chances of an hour called out. ”

“ Every girl at Harbour Light that summer wore some distracting thing that had been fashioned by Miss Sylvia's slim, tireless, white fingers.
She was old, with that beautiful, serene old age which is as beautiful in its way as youth. Her girlhood and womanhood must have been very lovely to have ripened into such a beauty of sixty years. It was a surprise to everyone who heard her called Miss Sylvia. She looked so like a woman who ought to have stalwart, grown sons and dimpled little grandchildren. ”

“ To Sylvia the sudden change into brightness and bustle occasioned by the entrance of her father and the specksioneer was like that which you may effect any winter's night, when you come into a room where a great lump of coal lies hot and slumbering on the fire; just break it up with a judicious blow from the poker, and the room, late so dark, and dusk, and lone, is full of life, and light, and warmth. ”