Читать книгу Daisy Ashford: Her Book - Angela Ashford - Страница 13

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"Sylvia Sylvia" cried a man's voice in the hall. "Where is that child?"

"Coming" answered the child for so she was always called by her Uncle Richard although in years she was close on 19.

And she turned to obey the summons, a deep flush mounted to her usually too pale cheeks, and lighted up her whole countenance.

Sylvia Monton was little more than a baby when her parents were both drowned whilst on their way to India where Captain Monton was to join his regiment. So little Sylvia was left an orphan and her mothers only brother Richard Earlsdown came forward to take charge of her being a bachelor and possessing no children of his own.

At the time our history opens Sylvia was a tall thin girl with a fair and saddened face, which was only enlivened by the sky blue of her eyes—she had golden hair which she wore combed back from her white and noble forehead and arranged in heavy waves round her small and shapely head—a small rosebud mouth which when wide open displayed 2 rows of pearly white teeth. Small white hands adorned by 3 golden rings and a tiny round nose which she daintily touched now and again with a lace hankerchief.

It was 3 oclock on a dismal afternoon late in February and the place was on the boarders of the Sussex downs.

"What a rainy day for our walk Uncle" sighed Sylvia as she approached her uncle who was still waiting in the hall.

"I wish it were finer my dear" said Mr. Earlsdown opening a large unbrella manfully.

Mr. Earlsdown was an elderly man between 50 and 60, he had iron grey hair and a long bushy beard to corrospond, sharp grey eyes and a would be handsome face but for a stern forbidding expression it habitually wore. He was broad and stout and had a manfull way of carelessly swinging his arms that gave him many friends. Not only this but he had a loud hearty voice that he knew how to use with a will.

Here Mr. Earlsdown proceeded to turn up his trouser tips and offering his large umbrella to his niece cried in his hearty voice "let us brave the storm."

Just then a gust of wind blew Sylvia's dainty toque down a side street. "Oh uncle" she gasped dropping the gingham in her dismay "do go and fetch it," but ere she uttered the words a tall handsome fellow approached bearing his head and displaying the lost hat in his hand.

"Oh thank you" cried Sylvia a beautiful blush mounting her fair cheeks "I am so very grateful to you."

"I am afraid it is rather dusty" said the newcomer taking out a lovely silk hankerchief and preparing to wipe the charming object

"Don't trouble sir" said Mr. Earlsdown and taking out a large red kerchief he seized the hat in his huge hand and pounded it vigorously. "Oh uncle gently" cried Sylvia "you will spoil my feathers

"I know what I am about my dear" said Mr. Earlsdown "and you sir come and see us to-morrow, my child will be glad of a caller."

"Oh indeed I shall" cried Sylvia blushing.

And Leslie Woodcock, for that was the handsome fellows name raised his hat and bowed low saying "I shall be delighted my dear sir, but might I ask what your address is.

"Certainly my man" exclaimed Mr. Earlsdown as with a hearty laugh he produced a little card on which was written

R. Earlsdown Esq,

Yellowflower Hall

Mayfield Sussex

Leslie bowed once more and taking the card moved gently away. What took place after this will be reserved for our next chapter.