Every girl at Harbour Light that summer wore some distracting thing that had been fashioned by Miss Sylvia 's slim , tireless , white fingers . She was old , with that beautiful , serene old age which is as beautiful in its way as youth . Her girlhood and womanhood must have been very lovely to have ripened into such a beauty of sixty years . It was a surprise to everyone who heard her called Miss Sylvia . She looked so like a woman who ought to have stalwart , grown sons and dimpled little grandchildren . For the first two days after the arrival at the hotel she sat in her corner alone . There was always a circle of young people around her ; old folks and middle-aged people would have liked to join it , but Miss Sylvia , while she was gracious to all , let it be distinctly understood that her sympathies were with youth . She sat among the boys and girls , young men and maidens , like a fine white queen . Her dress was always the same and somewhat old-fashioned , but nothing else would have suited her half so well ; she wore a lace cap on her snowy hair and a heliotrope shawl over her black silk shoulders . She knitted continually and talked a good deal , but listened more . We sat around her at all hours of the day and told her everything . When you were first introduced to her you called her Miss Stanleymain . Her endurance of that was limited to twenty-four hours . Then she begged you to call her Miss Sylvia , and as Miss Sylvia you spoke and thought of her forevermore . Miss Sylvia liked us all , but I was her favourite . She told us so frankly and let it be understood that when I was talking to her and her heliotrope shawl was allowed to slip under one arm it was a sign that we were not to be interrupted . I was as vain of her favour as any lovelorn suitor whose lady had honoured him , not knowing , as I came to know later , the reason for it . Although Miss Sylvia had an unlimited capacity for receiving confidences , she never gave any . We were all sure that there must be some romance in her life , but our efforts to discover it were unsuccessful . Miss Sylvia parried tentative questions so skilfully that we knew she had something to defend .
But one evening , when I had known her a month , as time is reckoned , and long years XXXXX affection and understanding are computed , she told me her story -- at least , what there was to tell of it .
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