After Sylvia decides to protect the white heron by refusing to share the location of its nest with the hunter, the hunter leaves and heads back to his home in the city. Though Sylvia knows she made the right choice, she is also sad to see the hunter go. The narrator captures Sylvia’s loss in this moment, using a simile in the process:
Dear loyalty, that suffered a sharp pang as the guest went away disappointed later in the day, that could have served and followed him and loved him as a dog loves!
The simile here—that Sylvia could have “loved [the hunter] as a dog loves”—is evocative. It effectively communicates how torn Sylvia is about her decision—she cares deeply about both the hunter and the white heron, yet her loyalty remains firmly with the heron. While she “could have” loved the hunter as deeply as a dog loves its owner, she loves the heron (itself a stand-in for nature) more, and she must therefore let the hunter go.
Sylvia’s priorities are clear here, even as she experiences heartbreak for the first time—conserving and protecting nature is more important to her than remaining loyal to the hunter and potentially receiving the hunter’s affection.
Once Sylvia has climbed in the top of the pine tree (the climax of the story), the narrator describes the scene using imagery and a pair of similes:
Sylvia’s face was like a pale star, if one had seen it from the ground, when the last thorny bough was past, and she stood trembling and tired but wholly triumphant, high in the tree-top. Yes, there was the sea with the dawning sun making a golden dazzle over it, and toward that glorious east flew two hawks with slow-moving pinions […] Their gray feathers were as soft as moths; they seemed only a little way from the tree, and Sylvia felt as if she too could go flying away among the clouds.
The similes here—Sylvia's face looking “like a pale star” and the feathers of the hawks appearing to be “as soft as moths”—help readers to fully experience this significant moment. This experience has changed Sylvia; she is not just a child in the treetops, but is now as powerful and luminous as a star. That Sylvia can sense the softness of the hawks’ feathers from afar also shows how her senses are heightened in this peak moment.
The other imagery here—that the sun had a “golden dazzle over it,” Sylvia “stood trembling,” and she “felt as if she too could go flying away among the clouds”—helps readers to understand the majesty of nature and the ways it can enliven humans. In a time in which many readers were likely caught up in the fast pace of cities and modern society, Jewett is encouraging them to slow down, like Sylvia does here, and fully experience the wonders of the natural world.