now
was so dear to him. But imperceptibly the influences of domestic life
had tamed and won him. Solitude looked barren, vagrancy had lost its
charm; his life seemed cold and bare, for, though devoted to noble aims,
it was wanting in the social sacrifices, cares, and joys, that foster
charity, and sweeten character. An impetuous desire to enjoy the rich
experience which did so much for others, came over him to-night as it
had often done while sharing the delights of this home, where he had
made so long a pause. But with the desire came a memory that restrained
him better than his promise. He saw what others had not yet discovered,
and obeying the code of honor which governs a true gentleman, loved his
friend better than himself and held his peace.

The last skein came, and as she wound it, Sylvia's glance involuntarily
rose from the strong hands to the face above them, and lingered there,
for the penetrating gaze was averted, and an unwonted mildness inspired
confidence as its usual expression of power commanded respect. His
silence troubled her, and with curious yet respectful scrutiny, she
studied his face as she had never done before. She found it full of a
noble gravity and kindliness; candor and courage spoke in the lines of
the mouth, benevolence and intellect in the broad arch of the forehead,
ardor and energy in the fire of the eye, and on every lineament the
stamp of that genuine manhood, which no art can counterfeit. Intent upon
discovering the secret of the mastery he exerted over all who approached
him, Sylvia had quite forgotten herself, when suddenly Warwick's eyes
were fixed full upon her own. What spell lay in them she could not tell,
for human eye had never shed such sudden summer over her. Admiration was
not in it, for it did not agitate; nor audacity, for it did not abash;
but something that thrilled warm through blood and nerves, that filled
her with a glad submission to some power, absolute yet tender, and
caused her to turn her innocent face freely to his gaze, letting him
read therein a sentiment for which she had not yet found a name.

It lasted but a moment; yet in that moment, each saw the other's heart,
and each turned a new page in the romance of their lives. Sylvia's eyes
fell first, but no blush followed, no sign of anger or perplexity, only
a thoughtful silence, which continued till the last violet thread
dropped from his hands, and she said almost regretfully--

"This is the end."

"