Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1880-09-23
Gales ano Skettbes.
SYLVIA.
THE STORY OF A DREAM.
CHATTER l.

London. in the heart of the busy city.
working at nv desk. as | had worked
every day for the last ten years. and now
how different was the scene on which my
eyes gazed! A grand tempestuous sun
set. where half the sky looked like a sheet
OF steel and the other half was but mass
of clouds, all red and gold and purple :;
view of fields pale emerald or primrose
starred: vision of trees where tender
hues glowed in budding LEAKAGE: the soft
green slopes of hills; the shadows of
woods where the fading daylight made q
strange phantasy of dusky color; all these
moved and floated before my eyes in rapid
changes, and told me how far away was
| from the noise and din and turmoil OF town
life.
had the carriage all alone to myself.
eant back against the cushions, and
went over in my mind the why's and
wherefores of the summons that had
brought me thther. took the telegram
from my pocket-thc telegram that came
to my city ocffic in the bright fresh morn
ing light of that spring day. with its i'll
omened message of death and reperused
tor at least the twentieth time these
words:
Your uncle died yesterday. Come at
once. Your presence is urgently de-
sired''
That nv presence should be urgently
desired by the relatives who had ignored
my existence for the last fifteen years was
a matter of surprise to me; but the tele
gram told me so, and | was fain to be-
| lieve it to be correct. Nevertheless. |
wondered more and more why il should
be the case, and the more | tried to find
some satisfactory reason the more | seemed
to fail.
| was the only surviving male relative
| of Ashley Graham, owner and possessor
of Silverdesne Hall, Bridgewater. and
quarrelled with him, he with me, when
| was lad of sixteen, and from that day
to this | had heard or seen nothing OF the
old man He was rich. eccentric, disa-
greeable; | young. ardent, enthusiastic.
| He wished me to become a clergyman; |
refused to comply with that wish, and was
thereupon informed that | had nothing
more to expect from him, and could do
what chose for the future. | took him
at his word, never questioning but that he
meant to do so. went to London, and.
after many difficulties and struggles, sue
ceeded in securing Il clerkship in Il firm of
city merchants. had risen higher and
higher, and finally became junior partner.
| liked the business, and worked stead
lily and hard. for the pleasure of working
more than its attendant gain and in the
midst of this life and is interests and oc-
equations had come the disturbing element
of this strange telegram.
| | could not affect sorrow for my uncle's
DEATH / knew too little of him, and that
little was unfavorable. | believed him TO
be wealthy, but could not imagine he
would have left any portion of his wealth
to me after our quarrel and long estrange
ment; nor did | care for it. | had sufli-
cient and did not desire more. make
this confession frankly and truthfully. not
from any hvpocritical motives. At that
time I should have been utterly bewil-
dered by great wealth. lam sure it could
have added no zest to my liie-given no
pleasure to my heart that | did not frankly
and fully enjoy already.
So it came to pass that | was speeding
down TO Silverdesne, all unconscious of
what fate had in store for me when | set
foot in that ancient mansion once again
When the train arrived at the station
got out with feeling of relief. My only
luggage consisted of small leather bag,
and moved quickly along the narrow
ill-lghted platform wondering whether
any conveyance was at hand to take me TO
Selver1esne. discovered that there was
a carriage waiting fr me, and n grave
looking elderly footman opened the door
put in nv bag. and was forthwith driven
off into the dark. open country. and along
the narrow high-hedged roads which | re-
membered of old.
We stopped at last. looked out and
saw the dark, grim old hall. the lights
flashing through door and windows, and
the faces Of one or two old servants whom
had seen in the years gone by. A mo-
ment and | was amidst them, and the
warmth of their welcome, the genuineness
of their recognition. filed me with sur
prise spoke few words, then asked
to be shown TO my room.
My lady and Miss Sylvia are in the IL
brary,' said the old butler. as he led the
way: 'but suppose you won't care to
see them till you have dined, SIR
/ stopped and stared at the man. ''My
lady and Miss Sylvia" ] repeated stupid
ly; land pray who may they be ?''
1t was the old mans turn now to look
surprised.
Don't you know, sir,'' he asked won
deringly, my master married two years
ago?8
Married. No; / never heard of it, |
said vacantly.
..Oh. yes he married Lady Helen st.
Vincent. daughter of the Earl of Oakham-
ton
..And is Miss Sylvia her daughter"
. inquired.
'.Oh, no. sir. Miss Sylvia's the young
. lady he adopted long before he married
No one knew anything about her, or where
! she came from; but my master was yer,
J fond of her. Every one thought he wa
going to make her his heiress. 1t took u.
all By surprise when he married.
Il should think it did. Why, he mus
have been close on sixty"
'.He was sixty, sir. He's just sixty-twt
now" answered my informant, who hat
preceded me to my room by this time, an,
was now busily engaged in pouring on
!. hot water and arranging my toilet requis
ties.