Sylvia's Lovers - Page 73/290

She thought he was making it into a very small place in order to

tease her; so she pouted a little, and then said,-'Greenland is all t' geography I want to know. Except, perhaps,

York. I'd like to learn about York, because of t' races, and London,

because King George lives there.' 'But if you learn geography at all, you must learn 'bout all places:

which of them is hot, and which is cold, and how many inhabitants is

in each, and what's the rivers, and which is the principal towns.' 'I'm sure, Sylvie, if Philip will learn thee all that, thou'lt be

such a sight o' knowledge as ne'er a one o' th' Prestons has been

sin' my great-grandfather lost his property. I should be main proud

o' thee; 'twould seem as if we was Prestons o' Slaideburn once

more.' 'I'd do a deal to pleasure yo', mammy; but weary befa' riches and

land, if folks that has 'em is to write "Abednegos" by t' score, and

to get hard words int' their brains, till they work like barm, and

end wi' cracking 'em.' This seemed to be Sylvia's last protest against learning for the

night, for after this she turned docile, and really took pains to

understand all that Philip could teach her, by means of the not

unskilful, though rude, map which he drew for her with a piece of

charred wood on his aunt's dresser. He had asked his aunt's leave

before beginning what Sylvia called his 'dirty work;' but by-and-by

even she became a little interested in starting from a great black

spot called Monkshaven, and in the shaping of land and sea around

that one centre. Sylvia held her round chin in the palms of her

hands, supporting her elbows on the dresser; looking down at the

progress of the rough drawing in general, but now and then glancing

up at him with sudden inquiry. All along he was not so much absorbed

in his teaching as to be unconscious of her sweet proximity. She was

in her best mood towards him; neither mutinous nor saucy; and he was

striving with all his might to retain her interest, speaking better

than ever he had done before (such brightness did love call

forth!)--understanding what she would care to hear and to know;

when, in the middle of an attempt at explaining the cause of the

long polar days, of which she had heard from her childhood, he felt

that her attention was no longer his; that a discord had come in

between their minds; that she had passed out of his power. This

certainty of intuition lasted but for an instant; he had no time to

wonder or to speculate as to what had affected her so adversely to

his wishes before the door opened and Kinraid came in. Then Hepburn

knew that she must have heard his coming footsteps, and recognized

them.