, before her sounded the
city's fitful hum, and far behind her lay the green wilderness where she
had lived and learned so much. Slowly the fog lifted, the sun came
dazzling down upon the sea, and out into the open bay they sailed with
the pennon streaming in the morning wind. But still with backward glance
the girl watched the misty wall that rose between her and the charmed
river, and still with yearning heart confessed how sweet that brief
experience had been, for though she had not yet discovered it, like

"The fairy Lady of Shalott,
She had left the web and left the loom,
Had seen the water lilies bloom,
Had seen the helmet and the plume,
And had looked down to Camelot."

CHAPTER VI.

WHY SYLVIA WAS HAPPY.

"I never did understand you, Sylvia; and this last month you have been a
perfect enigma to me."

With rocking-chair in full action, suspended needle and thoughtful
expression, Miss Yule had watched her sister for ten minutes as she sat
with her work at her feet, her hands folded on her lap, and her eyes
dreamily fixed on vacancy.

"I always was to myself, Prue, and am more so than ever now," answered
Sylvia, waking out of her reverie with a smile that proved it had been a
pleasant one.

"There must be some reason for this great change in you. Come, tell me,
dear."

With a motherly gesture Miss Yule drew the girl to her knee, brushed
back the bright hair, and looked into the face so freely turned to hers.
Through all the years they had been together, the elder sister had never
seen before the expression which the younger's face now wore. A vague
expectancy sat in her eyes, some nameless content sweetened her smile, a
beautiful repose replaced the varying enthusiasm, listlessness, and
melancholy that used to haunt her countenance and make it such a study.
Miss Yule could not read the secret of the change, yet felt its novel
charm; Sylvia could not explain it, though penetrated by its power; and
for a moment the sisters looked into each other's faces, wondering why
each seemed altered. Then Prue, who never wasted much time in
speculations of any kind, shook her head, and repeated--

"I don't understand it, but it must be right, because you are so
improved in every way. Ever since that wild trip up the river you have
been growing quiet, lovable, and cheerful, and I really begin to hope
that you will become like other people."

"I only know that I am happy, Prue. Why it