The Argosy — page 211: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

How it Happened, 197 This was what I eventually did, and I was very soon extremely thankful that I had followed this advice. The next Saturday happened to be St. Valentine’s day. The girls came to me, as usual; but Frances was coughing, and seemed ill. She was perfectly pale, and her eyes looked larger than usual, and there were dark lines drawn underneath her lower lids. She laughed and talked, however, with forced and feverish gaiety quite unnatural to her. Both maidens were laden with valentines, and Fenella was merry with a right good will, although I saw her occasionally stealing a pitying glance at her sister. I recognised the handwriting upon many of the envelopes shown to me. The Redchester Collegians had been particularly amorously inclined this year. The younger girl had received no less than seventeen triumphs of art, while Frances displayed twelve tokens of admiration. “Ts that all?” I asked, at last, when I had my lap full of Cupids, doves, and roses. “ There is one more,” Fenella said gleefully, and yet with a certain hesitation of manner; “ but it is of quite a different sort from these. It is a real one. Don’t you think so, Frances?” The poor child had been bending over the fire. She shivered as she attempted to smile when thus addressed. I saw her blue eyes fill with tears, as she answered, in a husky voice: “TI don’t know—Yes—I suppose it is.” Her liveliness had failed her all of a sudden, and I wondered what could be the matter. Fenella, meanwhile, had drawn her last treasure forth, and now held it before me. This valentine consisted of a large unornamented sheet of white paper, containing a bold sketch of the sea-shore and of the great heaving ocean. Underneath was written : ** So vast my love! My bliss as boundless, If thou wilt be mine.—L. C.” The envelope was directed to Miss F. Perrin, and there had been no attempt made to disguise the handwriting. The sender was certainly our organist, and he wished that fact to be known. I pushed all the gaudy missives aside in disgust, and sat silent for a while. Fenella was quite keen enough to see what was in my mind, but she passed no remark. Frances was so engrossed in trying to appear indiiferent that she observed nothing. I got up and brought her the likeness I had just received from the photographer, saying aloud that I had deter- mined to keep the profile likeness; while all the time I was mentally repeating, over and over again, “ He did not take it, then, and I have been deceived.” le As Francis had a cold, I proposed that we should. ‘not go to the comlichooks.con