The Rock Island Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1877-1885, 1882-06-18
sYLVIA,s FLIGHT.

I
red rays across the garden. as Sylvia
Normanton came in her swift, light way
| up the walk.
She was very yoang-not more than
nineteen, yet there was a singularly
quiet look upon her pale face as of one
i who had known sorrow. Ii was even
SO; Sylvia had been welded to Ernest
! Normanton by her fathers dying bed.
| The tie between father and daughter
had been.every strong. He had been
everything to the lonely young girl. and
| they had drifted about over the world
/ together, Bohemian fashion. Mr.. Charl-
ton was something of an artist; also,
notes OF travel from his pen brought
him no mean recompense; yet there
was nothing laid by. The girl was a
fine scholar-her father being her emily
4 instructor
Among other acquaintanees who had
| dEifted into and out of their lives, Ernest
Normanton had proved himself a true
and faithful friend. Some subtle attrac-
ton drew the two men together, and
strengthened the bond between them
Ernest never lost track of them. He
was nearly twice the age of Sylvia.
handsome, kingly-looking man, with
dark hazel eyes and a long silken black
beard, and beautiful teeth. Sylvia never
| had looked upon him as a lover. She
admired him greatly, but was very shy
of HIM consequently it was something
| OF shock to her when Mr.. Normanton
had asked her, gravely and kindly, to
become his wife; and her father. whose
dear face was already growing grey
with the shadow of death. begged her
to consent, and to have the ceremony
performed at once, that he might be
L., I, u Il
q protector who would never forsake
her.
The next few days were like ahorrible
dream to Sylvia-the still white lips
| which had ever smiled upon her-the
| tall slender form, and the quiet hands,
| all framed by the dark outline of the
plain oak cofiin--the solemn burial SER
vice--the coming back TO the little suite
of rooms where she had been so happy
with her beloved parent. For two days
Sylvia wept herself nearly sick. and
Ernest Normanton cared for her much
as if she had been baby
Then he took her home-to his home
in England, and then, for the first time,
Sylvia realized that her husband was a
rich man
The grand mansion, surrounded by
extensive grounds. was most sumptuons-
who welcomed them was dressed like
duchess.
Mr. Normanton smiled at the illy-con-
cealed wonder in his little wife's face
smiled in such bright, tender way that
Sylvia, looking at him. felt a new and
strange emotion thrill her rapturously.
So, under all the grief for her dead IA
ther, there was half awakened hope
of future happiness.
Returning now from q brisk walk
shout the grounds, some notes.-the
voices of her husband and her mother
in-law- foated out to her from the open
window. The lady's words were not
distinct, but Sylvia held her breath with
sudden agony. as Ernests quiet tones |
cut through the clear air
Mother. do not talk of that. / have
put Bertha from my life, for ever. /
married little Sylvia out of feeling for |
her dying father; but"
Sylvia waited to hear no more. They |
had not seen her; and she ran up the |
broad stairs to her chamber. Throwing |
herself upon the bed, she lay staring at |
the wall with dry, fearless eyes, until /
her husband entered the room. Then /
she feigned sleep.
He moved quietly about the chamber
for moment, and then paused to press
his lips to her temple and upon her |
closed eyes. A few seconds later she
heard him giving orders in the hall to
one of the servants.
..Do not disturb your mistress on any
account, Martin; she is not well to-day, |
and has fallen asleep. And, Martin,
tell Andrews to get the dog-cart ready
in time for the six O'Clock train; | am
going to London tf1isevening.'
NOT then Howe which he felt
for her; it was pity---the pity of large,
generous nature for a lonely, unprotect-
ed girl
When Ernest returned from London
on the following day, his wife was gonel
No one had seen her leave the house,
but she was surely gone, and, in her
place. they had found sealed letter di-
rected to Mr.. Normanton. He tore 1T
open and read these words:
Il overheard a part of your conversa-
ton withsyour anofher. this afternoonT-sl
enough to assure me that you n1arrfed
me out of feeling of pity, and that an
other woman has been dearer to you
than ever lean be; therefore am going
everywhere you will not be able TO
find me-
Ernest Normanton read the note
through with the tears gathering IL his
Il
his nletheF.a
..My poor little girl he said; .ff she
had heard the whole sire would not have
left me- / must find her. mDtlier--I will
hunt the world over, but Twill find her3
A sleepy little village on the Sussex
coast. Few strangers ever came there,
and when Ernest Normanton made his
appearances in the place one September
day, many curious eyes were turned up
on him.
Masking an inquiry OF one OF the men
hanging about, he was directed 70 the
Thirty minutes later he ran down the
stems Of the Reverend Mr.. Peters dwell
ling, and in q short time stood before
tiny cottage
Here. half-tnrned from him, sat
yosang mother. swaying 10 and FRO ~ 9
light ane-chair,s while her baby eager
lbs e1ung to the white breast, and hfs
long, dark lashes dropped droWsiiy over
: