Austin was too bound by every tie of blood
and affection to the Homestead ever to build his hearth-fire permanently
elsewhere; but he was also rapidly growing too big to be confined by it
to the exclusion of the new opportunities which seemed to be offering
themselves to him in such rapid succession in every direction.
Coming in very late one evening in August after one of these necessary
absences, he found Sylvia already in bed, their room dark. She had never
failed to wait up for him before. He felt a sudden pang of anxiety and
contrition.
"Are you ill, darling? I didn't mean to be so late."
"No, not ill--just a little more tired than usual." She drew his head
down to her breast, and for some minutes they held each other so,
silently, their hearts beating together. "But I think it would be better
if we sent for the doctor now--I didn't want to until you came home."
She slipped out of bed, and walked over to the open window, his arm still
around her. The river shone like a ribbon of silver in the moonlight; the
green meadows lay in soft shadows for miles around it; in the distance
the Homestead stood silhouetted against the starlit sky.
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