The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1886-11-04
SYLVIA'S HOME.

'Its all nonsenser said Sylvia Dana,
as the letter dropped from her hands,
and an indignant flush oyerspread the
pure perfect oval of her lovely face. LAS
if | would leave you mamma, to be
adopted into the most luxurious home
that wealth could give. No-a thous.
and times non'
The little woman in the straight black
draperies and the widows cap looked
pleased and yet sad.
But, Sylvia, my dear, are you sure
you are making wise decision in thus
refusing your uncle's offerP He is will
ing to adopt you and provide for you as
his own-nor should you attach an un-
due Importance to the few words about
me which he has written. He never ap-
proved his brothers marriage with me;
he never liked me; but you are quite an
other person. Sylvia. Ought you to
throw away a chance like this, and for
a mere whim?"
Mamma, it is not whim. l would
rather stay here in this poor little rose
covered cottage and make dresses for
ever than leave you. Don't, please, try
to shake my resolution any more; in
deed, it will be of no use. | shall write
to Uncle Dana this very night"
And she did-a brief indignant letter,
blotted with her tears, resolutely de-
clining the liberal offer of the merchant
prince, and scarcely even thanking him
for it.
''As if l would leave mammal! she
kept repeating to herself.
And then Sylvia Dana sat down be-
fore the mirror and began unbraiding
the magnificent masses of bronze-gold
hair that fell like a glimmering cloud
down to her waist.
1t was bright and far from unpleas-
ing reflection that the mirror returned
to her as she sat there, thoughtful and
distracted An oval face, pink and
white in its hues, like the satin lining OF
a sea-shell, deep grey eyes, limpid and
almond-shaped, with fringe of thick
lashes curving upward at the ends,
email straight features, and fresh
crimson mouth-that was what she
saw. And viewing this duplicate OF
herself, Sylvia Dana could hardly be
aware that she was very lovely.
Il suppose if | lived in a great city
ike London, and visited at crowds of
houses, and went out every night to
parties and soirees, where people con-
gregate together, | might turn my beau
ty to some account, and make what the
world calls great match" she pom
dered to herself, with a slight scornful
curl to her upper-lip. ''But fate has
ordained it otherwise. l am to stay
here and make dresses; but then man.
ma will be with me. Darling mamma!
No, | do not for a single instant re-
gret the decision that l have made.
wonder what sort of an answer [ shall
receive to my letter to Uncle Paul
Dana?"
She received no answer at all. Uncle
Paul Dana was not the sort of man to
repeat an offer that had once been so
scornfully rejected. He had loved his
dead brother, he had been willing lib
erallv to provide for that brother 8
daughter Beyond this he would not
advance single inch.
So he read over Sylvia's letter with a
curious smile on his iron old face, and
put it away into one of the pigeon-holes
of his desk.
''She must be an uncompromising
little virago," he said to himself. 'Well,
well, as she has made her bed she must
lie in it."
! 1t was late in August when Sylvia, re-
turning from Mrs. Squire Nobinson's S,
where she had been to fit some grena.
dine dresses, stopped to rest in her fav-
orite nook, where rustic bridge
spanned the trout stream, and a
gnarled old willow hung almost hori-
zontally over the crystal-brown waters.
AS she sat down on the trunk of the
tree, throwing off her bonnet with a
sigh of relief there was a rustling
among the tall rushes close to her; she
started up with scream, and saw a
tall stranger busted in angling.
Il hope have not frightened you?''
| he said, courteously lifting his hat.
Sylvia smiled at her own folly.
Il did not see you when l sat down te
rest''
And am sorry you have seen me
now," he said pleasantly, IF l am to
drive you away from your shady
refuge. l can fish little lower down
the stream just as well as here"
He was gathering up his tackle pre-
paratory to retreat when Sylvia stopped
| him.
No" she said peremptorily. Il an
going home"
She kept her word, but as she was
passing the one sole Village inn," Mrs
| Martin, the landlords wife, ran out tc
! accost her.
| Miss Sylvia she said, ..have YOU a
! spare room at the cottage you ana your
mamma would let to a decent bodx
come down for week fishin'? There's
+ plenty o table-room mere, but our ac.
! commodstion is small for sleepin', and
! n
! Yes, certainly" said Sylvia. Mann