Sylvia's Lovers - Page 253/290

'Sylvie!' said he, almost fiercely, 'what do yo' mean by what you've

said? Speak! I will have an answer.' He almost shook her: she was half frightened by his vehemence of

behaviour, which she took for pure anger, while it was the outburst

of agonized and unrequited love.

'Let me go! Oh, Philip, yo' hurt me!' Just at this moment Hester came up; Philip was ashamed of his

passionate ways in her serene presence, and loosened his grasp of

his wife, and she ran away; ran into her mother's empty room, as to

a solitary place, and there burst into that sobbing, miserable

crying which we instinctively know is too surely lessening the

length of our days on earth to be indulged in often.

When she had exhausted that first burst and lay weak and quiet for a

time, she listened in dreading expectation of the sound of his

footstep coming in search of her to make friends. But he was

detained below on business, and never came. Instead, her mother came

clambering up the stairs; she was now in the habit of going to bed

between seven and eight, and to-night she was retiring at even an

earlier hour.

Sylvia sprang up and drew down the window-blind, and made her face

and manner as composed as possible, in order to soothe and comfort

her mother's last waking hours. She helped her to bed with gentle

patience; the restraint imposed upon her by her tender filial love

was good for her, though all the time she was longing to be alone to

have another wild outburst. When her mother was going off to sleep,

Sylvia went to look at her baby, also in a soft sleep. Then she

gazed out at the evening sky, high above the tiled roofs of the

opposite houses, and the longing to be out under the peaceful

heavens took possession of her once more.

'It's my only comfort,' said she to herself; 'and there's no earthly

harm in it. I would ha' been at home to his tea, if I could; but

when he doesn't want me, and mother doesn't want me, and baby is

either in my arms or asleep; why, I'll go any cry my fill out under

yon great quiet sky. I cannot stay in t' house to be choked up wi'

my tears, nor yet to have him coming about me either for scolding or

peace-making.' So she put on her things and went out again; this time along the

High Street, and up the long flights of steps towards the parish

church, and there she stood and thought that here she had first met

Kinraid, at Darley's burying, and she tried to recall the very look

of all the sad, earnest faces round the open grave--the whole scene,

in fact; and let herself give way to the miserable regrets she had

so often tried to control. Then she walked on, crying bitterly,

almost unawares to herself; on through the high, bleak fields at the

summit of the cliffs; fields bounded by loose stone fences, and far

from all sight of the habitation of man. But, below, the sea rose

and raged; it was high water at the highest tide, and the wind blew

gustily from the land, vainly combating the great waves that came

invincibly up with a roar and an impotent furious dash against the

base of the cliffs below.