The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1891-05-23


search Of something. She knew every
turn of them, as if she had been bird or
a squirrel, and as instinetively. OF all,
their wealth Of herb and flower she knew
scarce a name.
l remember asking her, once, the name
of little flower of purest blue, that
nightly took my town-bred fancy.
"Fairy's eyes, she answered readily.
Later on, when her aunt had Joined US,
| spoke of the little blossom by the name
Sylvia had given it.
"Who calls it that ?" asked Miss Deni-
son quickly, with shadow on her face.
at is the blue speedwell"
at was Miss Sylvia's name for it, ex-
planned; 'it struck me as very pretty and
appropriate"
''It is time Sylvia gave up her childish
names for things, began Miss Denison
gravely; but Sylvia slip. ed her hand
through her aunt's arm, with a whispered
"Dont be cross, Aunt Rachel" that
brought back the smile to the elder
woman's face.
Another day 1 spoke to Sylvia of my
| first sight of her in the woods.
"Were you repeating poetry?' asked
jestingly. ''Did | disturb a recitation to
the Fairy Court ?"
She looked gravely at me-
"Not just that" she began, and
then stopped and smiled softly.
So, many days went by, and yet | had
never spoken of love to her-had not even
limited at the feelings that kept me under
her fairy spell. Many time, alone in my
room, my pulse leaped as I rehearsed
scenes of avowal on my own part-scenes
pregnant with passion and eloquence, and
palpitating with hopes of the sweet blush
that was to give the shy assent | longed
for. And yet, vivid as my conception of
the first part of my programme was wont to
be, somehow it was just when came to
this shy assent that all my difidence re-
turned in tenfold force. 1 could not
think of my woodland nymph as won by
mortal man. Some deity of the woods,
some "lovely Acis' of immortal pastures
even some bewitched norman, like him
whose forsaking has been sung in sweetest
music-were fitting wooer of the "oold,
strange eyes" of this Dryad; mere man,
/
seemed too rude mate for her ethereal
grace.
Yet the day came, and the hour.
One glorious evening in July she and |
were in the little glade where first met
her. We sat on the fallen tree and there
had been silence between us for a space.
\, Sylvia was seldom the first to break
silence, and my youthful eloquence was
quenched in the delight of watching her
slender hand as it caressed the lichened
bark of the PROSTATE trunk, and a tumult-
uous wonder if she would resent my taking
the pretty hand in mine.
She sighed softly, and my heart gave
throb. 1t was the first sigh had ever
heard from her lips. A smile often, bird
like little laugh more rarely, broke the
habitual gentle quietness of her manner
which had no trace of depression or sad
ness in it; but l had never heard her sigh
before
The soft sound gaze words to my desire,
"Sylvia," l said, while the beating cf.my
heart well-nigh choked me, and all my re-
hearsed eloquence faded from my memory
sSylvia, / love you, loved you the first
moment saw you-here, on this very
spot. Can you love me little, dear, only
a little 2"
She looked straight before her into the
depths of the wood, and the pure outline of
her cheek showed no access of color.
Timidly took possession of the slender
hand, as it strayed along the trunk She
did not withdraw it.
''Try to love me little, dear; love you
so dearly" pleaded.
She turned her face towards me-the
clear blue eyes as candid and untroubled as
a child's
81 do love you" she said simply, ami
looking straight into my eyes,
My TTtdnia was won, and my widest
hopes fulfilled | had "kissed Queen
Nab" and if the kiss brought a vague
sense of incompleteness, and Queen Nab
walked home with me through her native
woods, hand in land, but without any an
swering tremor to. that which shook my
pulses, was not all life before me to warm
the heart of the woodland nymph into that
of the perfect woman?
We walked, still hand in hand, into the
parlor and Miss Denison's presence.
AT sight of us she started and dropped
her work, while her eyes read my face with
intense inquiry.
"Aunt Rachel l said, "Sylvia and |
are have been telling Sylvia love her,
and she says she loves me-a little-tOO.
Miss Denison uttered sharp exclama-
ton, half sob, half laugh, and caught her
niece in her arms, straining her to her
breast with passion she seemed unable to
control.
"My darling my darlingp' she cried,
81 am so glad, so very glad I"
Then she turned to me, with an evident
striving for calmness.
81 could not give her to any one like,
[ trust, more" she said, "to any one |
could better trust with her happiness" J."
She put her hand on my shoulder and
kissed my forehead.
"My DEAR" she said earnestly, ''she shall
make you happy. You shall never repent
it. pray heaven
She checked herself, and began to speak
more lightly and of other things.
! We settled down alter that, SylvIas
silence falling on her again, while my eyes
were satisfied with feast on her fragile
beauty, and my heart sang peans because
she was mine.
When the too-short evening was gone,
and was alone in my bed-chamber with
tumult of feelings in my bosom that would
not let me think of sleep, sat me down
at my wide-open window and looked out
upon the silent night.
The moon was at the full, climbing the
heavens in all her majesty, and endowing
the trees of the wood and the distant waters
of the great mere with that magical, mys-
terious beauty of which she alone keeps
| the secret.