It was I who, instead of Sylvia, should have
sat in the carriage, cold and pale as if happiness
were dead, and we were driving to its funeral,
tricked out in gala garments for a mockery. It
was I who should have stood gravely indifferent,
looking around without interest, like one setting
lonely foot on an alien land—I who should have
said, " Thank you, Major Hatteraick," stiffly, and
talked to the sweet-faced old lady at the top of
the steps without tremor or effusion. Sylvia
was the stately banished princess, with her
trouble wrapped about her in dignity; but, alas!
I was only like a poor little caged mouse
runing gleefully back to its hole.

We did not find Eldergowan the quiet place I
had left it two months before. There was more
lively stir and bustle, more coming and going
of visitors, a freshened vividness of colouring
about the whole house; some water-colour
paintings from this year's exhibition, and some
new pink linings for the chintz-chalis curtains
in the drawing-room, a tall crystal tazza for
piling up pyramids of flowers on the hall table,
a noble " Diana robing" to fill a nook on the
gossip's landing, and be hung with the flitting
jewels, showered through the coloured window
by the sun of sunny afternoons—little novelties,
like these, the fruits of a visit of Major
Hatteraick to London, gave the place an air of
being newly swept, and garnished, as if in
preparation for new scenes of delight, which the
remaining summer days had yet in store. And
gaieties already were projected, promising more
excitement, if not more pleasure, than might be
expected to be found in dreamy saunters in the
garden, nutting rambles in the woods, and
story-telling gatherings on the steps at sunset.
The Eldergowan I had known had passed away,
with my black gown and my peace of mind, and
I could be thankful for visitors, for bustle, for
many eyes; many voices, from amongst which one
would not be missed, if it sometimes failed and
dropped away; for much fun which could keep
laughter on the lips, let the heart be never so sore.

For my little flash of delight faded away
from me like a streak of winter sunshine, and
every night I asked myself why had I come
again to Eldergowan to wreck my life utterly
for the sake of one who had already, in such
a little while, exhausted the sorrow which I had
looked upon with sympathy and awe? I had
sounded her trouble and thought it fathomless,
and, behold! the shallow fountain was already
dried up. For Sylvia's fit of hardness and gloom
passed off in a few days, and she threw
herself into every plan for amusement with a
zest and merriment that made her a favourite
with every one she met with. She was queen
of every festival, dance, and pic-nic, what not:
She had but to lift her little finger and any one
was ready to do her will. Who would not love
her—gay, witty, melting, wilful, with only that
fierce hard look for me when nobody was by?

Silvia was at enmity with me, yet it was only
at times that I cried out the injustice that she
was heartless and suffered nothing. I, who knew
her, saw the hectic on her cheek, and heard the
discord in her voice. She suffered in the singing
of songs, in the pauses of the dance, at night
when her door was shut.

Our rooms opened out of one another, but
the door between us was kept fast closed. I
could not have dared to creep to her bedside
saying " Poor Sylvia!" And I knew she would
sooner have thrown dust upon my head and sent
me wrapped in a sheet to do penance on the
highways, than have turned the handle of that
lock and stolen an arm round my neck, whispering
courage in the darkness. She was at
enmity with me, and she did not disguise it. I
had wronged her once in my secret engagement
to Luke, and again it seemed that I offended
in the attraction that kept Mark Hatteraick at
my side. I often wondered whether it was in
a spirit of coquetry that she desired to draw his
homage to herself, or whether she had seen more
than any other eyes could see, and, regarding
me with angry contempt, was endeavouring to
punish me. But one night at last she did visit
me in my room.

Tiiere was full moon that night, and no
strangers were with us. Sylvia sat out on the
steps with a light scarf round her head, singing
softly in the pauses of the nightingales. One song
after another made the night more still, till all
the moonlit world seemed intent on listening;
the soft greenish air on which the scents hung
breathless, the yellow light sleeping on the
house-front and on the flats of the steps, the velvety
shadows that lurked about the dim wrapt trees.
First we had passionate ballads, and then dreamy
melodies on which the very soul of melancholy
had spent itself. Now the clear mellow voice
soared among the stars, which seemed to flash
and reverberate for sympathy, and now it fell
softly to the level of the roses, with a special
cooing note for the little baby-buds folded under
the mother-leaves close by.

Mark was smoking somewhere in the walks
outside, and we had no light in the drawing-
room. Mrs. Hatteraick had fallen asleep on a
couch, and I was resting on another in the
window, from which I saw the dimly swelling swards
with a faint glory hovering above their breasts,
the shadowed woods lying with dusky shoulders
against the stars, and the notches of light and
pools of shadow that exaggerated the grotesque
carving of the stonework outside the window.

"Mattie!" whispered Polly, pulling my arm.
"They are making butter in the dairy. Come
and print some little pats."

"Hush! Polly," said Nell, in a motherly
way, spreading a shawl over my feet. "Mattie
has a headache. Come along, and I will make
pats with you." And the little girls left me
alone in quietness.

Just then, Sylvia, who had been lingering
about the open hall door, sat down on the steps
and began her singing. By-and-by, I saw a
dark figure emerge from the trees, and Mark
came towards the house. Through the open
doors, I heard Sylvia saying to him on the steps,
"They are all asleep in-doors, and I am trying to
amuse myself." Then she asked him a question.
Did he ever hear a song called so-and-so? No?
Well then it was very pretty; it went like this.