Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1874-02-20
PALE SYLVIA.
by KATE PUTNAM osaooD.

OF hers begins. She had color tnat
would have been at once the delight and
the despair of painter. Ray Croydon,
who was painter every inch, if an un-
successful one, used TO say that her check
was like nothing but velvet rose.leaf
against the light; and, making allowance
for a lovers exaggeration, his simile was
not far out of the way.
For Ray was her lover: not quite her
bctrothed, for, though Sylvia consented,
her father refused, and Sylvia would not
disobey him even for Rays sake. 81 can
not bind myself TO marry you against my
fathers will" she said. 81 can only
promise never to marry any other, and, if
you care enough for me to wait, you must
be content with that"
Ray did care, quite enough, and was
content--perforce.
1t was not that Colonel Dorchester dis
liked Ray; on the contrary, the young
fellow was favorite with him. If only
he had been Fortunes favorite too! For
the Colonel, himself poor man, would
not give to another yet poorer his only
child, the very apple of his eye. But if
prudent father he was a kind one too,
and set his requirements at the very low
est mark consistent with any degree of
worldly wisdom. "Let Ray show me that
he is sure of bread and cheese, and 1 will
provide the wedding cake" he said,
pinching Sylvia's cheek, the rose-leaf
cheek, as lovely in his eyes as in those of
her lover himself.
If one could but draw on the bank of
ambition, and parcel out colored canvas
into so many yards of bank-notes, it
would not have been long to wait. Ray
painted and dreamed of great things in
the future, and forgot how, meanwhile,
the present was slipping away day by
day till all at once he bethought himself
that year had passed since Colonel Oar
chester's ultimatum had been spoken. A
whole year! And what had he to show
for it that would bring Sylvia any the
nearerP The conviction suddenly struck
cold to his heart that he could never win
her thus. "The choice is between Sylvia
and fame" he said to himself-it is so
natural for every young aspirant to be-
The brush dropped from his fingers, he
den there for many moments When he
raised it again it was very pale and
almost stern; yet it was kindled by some
steady, inner light. 81 choose Sylviam
he said. He pushed his palette aside,
and with one brief, reluctant glance at the
unfinished canvas turned it TO the wall.
Then he left the studio and went straight
to merchant, an old friend of his
fathers.
"You offered me place in China the
other day." he said abruptly; "if you
will give it to me now l will take it. "
So the thing was done. Colonel Oar
chester, on learning it, applauded the
young mans resolution. "China is long
look ahead; but at the worst it is nearer
than the studio-no offense to you, Ray"
he said with a smile.
And SylviaP All, to Sylvia it seemed
indeed long, long outlook. In spite of
all that hung on the journey she could
almost have wished that Ray had remain
ed in the studio, where he would not at
least have been lost to sight and hearing;
the present might be wasted time, perhaps,
but it was very sweet 10 her, and she had
more faith than Ray in the futures
chances. But of all this she breathed not
a word to him. and when, holding her
hands and searching her face for some
comfort, he said, "Sylvia, l shall come
backeto claim you in year or two-you
will wait for me till them" it was with a
smile that she answered;
"Come back in one year or twenty,
Ray, you will find me as you left me. |
will never be the wife of any other"
And, with that, the last good-by was
said, and Ray Croydon sailed in search of
the fortune he fancied was waiting for
him on the other side of the world. And,
on this side, everything went on the same.
Ray was gone, to be sure; but did the sun
rise and set any the less for that? did the
butcher and the baker forget to come, or
people cease to eat and drink, because an
unsuccessful artist had turned his canvases
to the WALL and, for loves sake, abandon
ed all he loved? No, nobody tasted for
Ray nobody, perhaps, after little, re-
membered even that there was Ray to
fast for-nobOdy but Sylvia.
AS for Colonel Dorchester, he assuredly
did not fast He was sorry for the young
man; but, to tell the truth, he was not
sorry to have him gone. He had listened
with quiet smile, Multiplying, half
amused, to Rays talk of "a year or twO;"
for, being considerably older, and good
deal wiser, he realized better all that
China-made fortune meant. 1t will
give Sylvia chance" he said to him
self. "Long before Ray finds his apple
ripe for picking, they will both have for
gotten this childish nonsense. To be
sure, the Colonel did not know of Syl-
Was parting pledge; but, had he known,
it is to be feared he would not have made
much account of it. He had faith enough
in Sylvia, but not in her age How was
eighteen to know its own hearty
One makes allowances for friends in
another hemisphere; but, still, one does
expect to hear from them finally. But,
from the time when Ray Croydon said his
good-by to her, Sylvia never had word
from him-never one word, although she
heard casually from other sources that
he had arrived safely, and entered on the
post assigned him. That was all; little
enough-yet, but for that, he might have
been lost, dead, for anything Sylvia
knew. 1t was all but, coupled with his
silence, ID was more than enough. Yet
whatever of wonder, of doubt or pain,
might have been in Sylvias heart she
breathed It TO no mortal ear. Only, after a
while, she ceased TO write those poor lit
tie letters where so much love and
trust had been wasted, and silently ban
ished all token of him from the daily life.
1t was no part of her fathers purpose to
recall him, so Rays name was never
spoken, now, between those two, to whom
it had been as familiar as each others.
But one day Colonel Dorchester came
home with a preoccupied, troubled air.
His eyes followed Sylvia with a wistful
glance, that Stunned while seeking hers.
She looked up, and, meeting her fathers
gaze, came and stood beside him, laying
her hand ON his shoulder. "You have
something to tell me Of Ray Croydon,
father" she said, in low voice.
How had she read bis secret he won,
dered, as he looked up fondly in the face
a. n sf.s.t