Springfield globe-republic. (Springfield, Ohio) 1884-1887, 1885-04-26
THE LOST LETTER.


reveries.
Not winsome spot was this to most
people. at any time, and least of all
now in this November twilight.
Yet Sylvia stood there, in 'the
silence that could be felt," with that
dreamy far-off look in her large eyes
that might so often be seen there of
late.
She stood there, not, perhaps, 'feel-
ing the spell of the place and the late
hour" but the spell of past hour
that had been replete with sweetness.
Here we sat together, only few
short months ago. she soliloguised;
land it seems as though years had
passed since then. Whereof, where
is he nowP'
1t was this question that had been
rciterating itself through her mind ever
since the sudden departure of Valen-
tine Holcamp.
He had meant nothing when he had
ing summer rambles?
Sylvia sometimes dreamed, it is true,
of this man whose companionship had
been so agreeable, but she had not
pined away into shadow of her for
mer self; she had not so far lost her
heart as to either feel or appear
crushed. She was real pleasure-lover.
was little Sylvia, and boarded up like
miser the few enjoyments that had
penetrated her secluded life. Always
dreamer. why should she not now
dream of last summer and last sum-
mer's visitor?
Yet, in the very midst of her tender
"reminiscences, the spirited eyebrows
would go up, the little straight nose
become tilted, and the curved lip be-
come the sauciest in the world. Then
she would almost dance with glee that
she had never been so weak as to wear
her heart on her sleeve while her alb
sent cavalier had bestowed upon her
his gallantries.
'.Let him come or stay as he listeth,"
she would conclude. and homeward
wend her way, warbling some gay
little song
To-day, with the grinf bare old trees
around her, the grey glimpse of sky
overhead she is silent and almost as
pensive as the departing day.
As she steps lightly along this
gloomy yet favorite haunt of hers, she
hears sudden sound over her head,
and looking up she sees an urchn of
about six years crouched on the broad
limb Of tree, and making prodigious
efforts for one so young, to hold a rifle
and aim at the same time at some
small game which he had espied.
Failing in this, it had been his utter
ance of disappointment that had at
tracted Sylva's attention.
''Bothering gun!'
And the tidgeting little finger sslpped
at last, the tired unaccustomed muscles
yielded, and the "bothering gun" came
rafting to the earth. while the child
made grand scramble to regain his
balance.
Had the article been anything other
than piece of firearms, all had been
well. AS it CHANGED, however. in fall
ing, the weapon struck heavily against
a lower jutting limb of the tree, and
discharged as it fell.
Sylvia had sprung aside. yet not in
time to escape the shot. The contents
of the rifle lodged in her right shoulder,
and she fell to the ground with moan.
She lay there white and insensible,
the blood from the wound ooZing
through her gown over the fair neck
The boy, trembling with terror at
this result of his daring escapade,
sprang to the side of the PROSTATE
form. Though such baby in years, it
had been manly courage that had led
the little fellow into such venture.
He had spirited handsome face.
and as he laid a tiny hand upon Sylvia's
pale brow, soft light of tenderness
grew in the dark eyes, and with Quick
childish gesture he stopped and
smoothed her cheek with his own.
Then he sprang to his feet again.
and ran swiftly away in the direction
of Lyndermere Lodge.
For ten years Lyndermere Lodge had
been occupied by Mr.. Arthur Powell,
an old man whose book love seemed to
supply the place of every other attach
ment, for, save for the occasional pres
ence of two domestics, he had lived
there quite alone.
The domestics lived also by them
selves in separate habitation.
During the past year the hermitage
had been entirely deserted for. much
to the astonishment of interested neigh
bors, MIR. Powell had suddenly left and
gone abroad.
few weeks previous to the opening
OF our story, news came of the old
mans death, and only the day before
the occurrence we have described, the
new owner, nephew Of Mr.. Powelps.
had arrived and taken possession. 1t
was he who now hastened to the assist
ance of Sylvia Devine.
He blanched and shuddered at the
sight before him. His step faltered,
and he almost fell to the ground beside
the wounded girl as he stopped to raise
her in his arms.
run, Jem-run as fast as your legs
can take you, to the nearest physi-
cianW
Jem needed no second bidding. He
was off like the wind, for in his guard
ian's eyes he saw an expression he had
never before seen there.
Would she, then, diep Had he been
the means of killing the most beautiful
lady he had ever looked upon in his
short lifep
To Jem she had seemed like fairy,
as through the interstices OF the tree
branches he had caught that brief
glimpse of the small riante face and
curling, close-cut haxen hair.
Meanwhile Sylvia was borne by the
stranger into the warm freight Of the
cosy library of Lyndermere Lodge.
She opened her eyes before the arri-
val Of the doctor, but she appeared be-
wildered and hardly conscious.
When the surgeon had examined the
wound, he said nothing could be done
further until the Young iadv was taken