Part 25 (1/2)
Standing ready to drop her work at a sound, Sylvia s.n.a.t.c.hed a brief satisfaction which solaced her more than an hour of idle lamentation, and as she kissed the glove with a long, sad kiss, and put it down with eyes that dimly saw where it should be, perhaps there went as much real love and sorrow into that little act as ever glorified some greater deed. Then she went to lie in the ”Refuge,” as she had named an ancient chair, with her head on its embracing arm. Not weeping, but quietly watching the flicker of the fire, which filled the room with warm duskiness, making the twilight doubly pleasant, till a sudden blaze leaped up, showing her that her watch was over and Warwick come. She had not heard him enter, but there he was close before her, his face glowing with the frosty air, his eye clear and kind, and in his aspect that nameless charm which won for him the confidence of whosoever read his countenance. Scarce knowing why, Sylvia felt rea.s.sured that all was well, and looked up with more welcome in her heart than she dared betray in words.
”Come at last! where have you been so long, Adam?”
”Round the Island I suspect, for I lost my way, and had no guide but instinct to lead me home again. I like to say that word, for though it is not home it seems so to me now. May I sit here before I go, and warm myself at your fire, Sylvia?”
Sure of his answer he established himself on the stool at her feet, stretched his hands to the grateful blaze, and went on with some inward resolution lending its power and depth to his voice.
”I had a question to settle with myself and went to find my best counsellors in the wood. Often when I am hara.s.sed by some perplexity or doubt to which I can find no wise or welcome answer, I walk myself into a belief that it will come; then it appears. I stoop to break a handsome flower, to pick up a cone, or watch some little creature happier than I, and there lies my answer, like a good luck penny, ready to my hand.”
”Faith has gone, but Geoffrey hopes to keep you for another week,” said Sylvia, ignoring the unsafe topic.
”Shall he have his wish?”
”Faith expects you to follow her.”
”And you think I ought?”
”I think you will.”
”When does the next boat leave?”
”An hour hence.”
”I'll wait for it here. Did I wake you coming in?”
”I was not asleep; only lazy, warm, and quiet.”
”And deadly tired;--dear soul, how can it be otherwise, leading the life you lead.”
There was such compa.s.sion in his voice, such affection in his eye, such fostering kindliness in the touch of the hand he laid upon her own, that Sylvia cried within herself,--”Oh, if Geoffrey would only come!” and hoping for that help to save her from herself, she hastily replied--
”You are mistaken, Adam,--my life is easier than I deserve,--my husband makes me very--”
”Miserable,--the truth to me, Sylvia.”
Warwick rose as he spoke, closed the door and came back wearing an expression which caused her to start up with a gesture of entreaty--
”No no, I will not hear you! Adam, you must not speak!”
He paused opposite her, leaving a little s.p.a.ce between them, which he did not cross through all that followed, and with that look, inflexible yet pitiful, he answered steadily--
”I _must_ speak and you _will_ hear me. But understand me, Sylvia, I desire and design no French sentiment nor sin like that we heard of, and what I say now I would say if Geoffrey stood between us. I have settled this point after long thought and the heartiest prayers I ever prayed; and much as I have at stake, I speak more for your sake than my own.
Therefore do not entreat nor delay, but listen and let me show you the wrong you are doing yourself, your husband, and your friend.”
”Does Faith know all the past? does she desire you to do this that her happiness may be secure?” demanded Sylvia.
”Faith is no more to me, nor I to Faith, than the friendliest regard can make us. She suspected that I loved you long ago; she now believes that you love me; she pities her cousin tenderly, but will not meddle with the tangle we have made of our three lives. Forget that folly, and let me speak to you as I should. When we parted I thought that you loved Geoffrey; so did you. When I came here I was sure of it for a day; but on that second night I saw your face as you stood here alone, and then I knew what I have since a.s.sured myself of. G.o.d knows, I think my gain dearly purchased by his loss. I see your double trial; I know the tribulations in store for all of us; yet, as an honest man, I must speak out, because you ought not to delude yourself or Geoffrey another day.”
”What right have you to come between us and decide my duty, Adam?”
Sylvia spoke pa.s.sionately, roused to resistance by his manner and the turmoil of emotions warring within her.