Sylvia's Lovers - Page 77/290

During the ensuing winter, all went on in monotonous regularity at

Haytersbank Farm for many weeks. Hepburn came and went, and thought

Sylvia wonderfully improved in docility and sobriety; and perhaps

also he noticed the improvement in her appearance. For she was at

that age when a girl changes rapidly, and generally for the better.

Sylvia shot up into a tall young woman; her eyes deepened in colour,

her face increased in expression, and a sort of consciousness of

unusual good looks gave her a slight tinge of coquettish shyness

with the few strangers whom she ever saw. Philip hailed her interest

in geography as another sign of improvement. He had brought back his

book of maps to the farm; and there he sat on many an evening

teaching his cousin, who had strange fancies respecting the places

about which she wished to learn, and was coolly indifferent to the

very existence of other towns, and countries, and seas far more

famous in story. She was occasionally wilful, and at times very

contemptuous as to the superior knowledge of her instructor; but, in

spite of it all, Philip went regularly on the appointed evenings to

Haytersbank--through keen black east wind, or driving snow, or

slushing thaw; for he liked dearly to sit a little behind her, with

his arm on the back of her chair, she stooping over the outspread

map, with her eyes,--could he have seen them,--a good deal fixed on

one spot in the map, not Northumberland, where Kinraid was spending

the winter, but those wild northern seas about which he had told

them such wonders.

One day towards spring, she saw Molly Corney coming towards the

farm. The companions had not met for many weeks, for Molly had been

from home visiting her relations in the north. Sylvia opened the

door, and stood smiling and shivering on the threshold, glad to see

her friend again. Molly called out, when a few paces off,-'Why, Sylvia, is that thee! Why, how thou'rt growed, to be sure!

What a bonny lass thou is!' 'Dunnot talk nonsense to my lass,' said Bell Robson, hospitably

leaving her ironing and coming to the door; but though the mother

tried to look as if she thought it nonsense, she could hardly keep

down the smile that shone out of her eyes, as she put her hand on

Sylvia's shoulder, with a fond sense of proprietorship in what was

being praised.

'Oh! but she is,' persisted Molly. 'She's grown quite a beauty sin'

I saw her. And if I don't tell her so, the men will.' 'Be quiet wi' thee,' said Sylvia, more than half offended, and

turning away in a huff at the open barefaced admiration.

'Ay; but they will,' persevered Molly. 'Yo'll not keep her long,

Mistress Robson. And as mother says, yo'd feel it a deal more to

have yer daughters left on hand.' 'Thy mother has many, I have but this one,' said Mrs. Robson, with

severe sadness; for now Molly was getting to talk as she disliked.

But Molly's purpose was to bring the conversation round to her own

affairs, of which she was very full.