Sylvia's Lovers - Page 214/290

When they got home Sylvia put the potatoes on to boil; but when

dinner was ready and the three were seated at the dresser, Bell

pushed her plate away from her, saying it was so long after dinner

time that she was past eating. Kester would have said something

about its being only half-past twelve, but Sylvia gave him a look

beseeching silence, and he went on with his dinner without a word,

only brushing away the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand

from time to time.

'A'll noane go far fra' home t' rest o' t' day,' said he, in a

whisper to Sylvia, as he went out.

'Will this day niver come to an end?' cried Bell, plaintively.

'Oh, mother! it'll come to an end some time, never fear. I've heerd

say-"Be the day weary or be the day long,

At length it ringeth to even-song."' 'To even-song--to even-song,' repeated Bell. 'D'ye think now that

even-song means death, Sylvie?' 'I cannot tell--I cannot bear it. Mother,' said Sylvia, in despair,

'I'll make some clap-bread: that's a heavy job, and will while away

t' afternoon.' 'Ay, do!' replied the mother. 'He'll like it fresh--he'll like it

fresh.' Murmuring and talking to herself, she fell into a doze, from which

Sylvia was careful not to disturb her.

The days were now getting long, although as cold as ever; and at

Haytersbank Farm the light lingered, as there was no near horizon to

bring on early darkness. Sylvia had all ready for her mother's tea

against she wakened; but she slept on and on, the peaceful sleep of

a child, and Sylvia did not care to waken her. Just after the sun

had set, she saw Kester outside the window making signs to her to

come out. She stole out on tip-toe by the back-kitchen, the door of

which was standing open. She almost ran against Philip, who did not

perceive her, as he was awaiting her coming the other way round the

corner of the house, and who turned upon her a face whose import she

read in an instant. 'Philip!' was all she said, and then she fainted

at his feet, coming down with a heavy bang on the round paving

stones of the yard.

'Kester! Kester!' he cried, for she looked like one dead, and with

all his strength the wearied man could not lift her and carry her

into the house.

With Kester's help she was borne into the back-kitchen, and Kester

rushed to the pump for some cold water to throw over her.

While Philip, kneeling at her head, was partly supporting her in his

arms, and heedless of any sight or sound, the shadow of some one

fell upon him. He looked up and saw his aunt; the old dignified,

sensible expression on her face, exactly like her former self,

composed, strong, and calm.