nt,
and ever new delight such wanderings would have for her. The joy of
being always with him; the proud consciousness that she was nearest and
dearest to such a man; the certainty that she might share the knowledge
of his past, might enjoy his present, help to shape his future. There
was no time to look into her heart, for up sprung its warm blood to her
cheek, its hope to her eye, its longing to her lips, its answer glad and
ready--

"Ah, this is love!"

The clock struck ten, and after lingering a little Sylvia went down.
Slowly, because her errand was a hard one; thoughtfully, because she
knew not where nor how she could best deliver it. No need to look for
him or linger for his coming; he was already there. Alone in the hall,
absently smoothing a little silken shawl she often wore, and waiting
with a melancholy patience that smote her to the heart. He went to meet
her, took both her hands in his, and looked into her face so tenderly,
so wistfully!--

"Sylvia, is it good night or good by?"

Her eyes filled, her hands trembled, her color paled, but she answered
steadily--

"Forgive me; it is good by."

CHAPTER IX.

HOLLY.

"Another gift for you, Sylvia. I don't know the writing, but it smells
like flowers," said Mark, as a smiling maid brought in a package on
Christmas morning.

Sylvia tore off the wrapper, lifted a cover, and exclaimed with
pleasure, though it was the simplest present she had received that day.
Only an osier basket, graceful in design and shape, lined with moss, and
filled with holly sprays, the scarlet berries glowing beautifully among
the polished green. No note, no card, no hint of its donor anywhere
appeared, for none of them recognized the boldly written address.
Presently a thought came to Sylvia; in a moment the mystery seemed to
grow delightfully clear, and she said to herself with a glow of joy,
"This is so like Adam I know he sent it."

"I must say it is the most peculiar present I ever saw, and it is my
belief that the boy who brought it stole whatever article of value it
contained, for it was very carelessly done up. No person in their senses
would send a few sprigs of common holly to a young lady in this odd
way," said Prue, poking here and there in hopes of finding some clue.

"It is not common, but very beautiful; we seldom see any so large and
green, and full of berries. Nor is it odd, but very kind, because from
the worn look of the wrapper I know it has been