I couldn't put off my black, Philip,--no, not to save my life! Yon silk is just lovely, far too good for the likes of me,--and I'm sure I'm much beholden to yo'; and I'll have it made up first of any gown after last April come two years,--but, oh, Philip, I cannot put off my mourning!' 'Not for our wedding-day!' said Philip, sadly.
'No, lad, I really cannot.

I'm just sorry about it, for I see thou'rt set upon it; and thou'rt so kind and good, I sometimes think I can niver be thankful enough to thee.

When I think on what would ha' become of mother and me if we hadn't had thee for a friend i' need, I'm noane ungrateful, Philip; tho' I sometimes fancy thou'rt thinking I am.' 'I don't want yo' to be grateful, Sylvie,' said poor Philip, dissatisfied, yet unable to explain what he did want; only knowing that there was something he lacked, yet fain would have had.
As the marriage-day drew near, all Sylvia's care seemed to be for her mother; all her anxiety was regarding the appurtenances of the home she was leaving.

In vain Philip tried to interest her in details of his improvements or contrivances in the new home to which he was going to take her.

She did not tell him; but the idea of the house behind the shop was associated in her mind with two times of discomfort and misery.