The Argosy — page 215: what you’re looking at

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

How it Happened, | 201 The younger girl then said, magnanimously, “ You may have him, Frances, if you wish to take such a mean fellow; but I will try and keep far away from you both, for I hate him with my whole heart, and I never can forgive anyone.” She spoke half regretfully, but her lips again grew pale with angry emotion. “You need not distress yourself about the matter,” Frances answered, quietly. ‘I could never like anyone who had acted dishonourably.” ‘‘ But he has not, I feel sure,” I said. ‘‘ It has been all a mistake.” “He has only wrecked my happiness for ever,” Fenella observed, in tragical tones, “I will never, never marry him,” Frances sobbed, clinging to her aggrieved sister; and I knew she spoke with a resolute and obstinate heart. We discontinued our attendance at the choir practice after this, but otherwise things appeared to go on much as usual. The girls took their music lessons as of old, and it was no doubt good discipline for them to be obliged to act as though nothing had happened. Fenella pros- pered and grew merry again very speedily under this self-restraint. She was ever ready once more to avail herself of any chance opening for flirtation that came in her way. Schoolboy, curate, vicar, or doctor, all were alike acceptable to her, if they were willing to allow her to amuse herself at their expense. Frances was, however, no longer what she had been. Her former calm and even temperament was gone. When she fancied herself unnoticed she drooped languidly, and sat with idle clasped hands, as though weary of her life. At other times she was feverishly active and eager. Her cheeks burned on such occasions, and her hands trembled. I thought her far from well or strong, but she was resolute in declaring that there was nothing the matter with her. Louis Carter, to my great distress, withdrew himself completely from me and from my husband. We could only mourn in secret over this estrangement, and over the sad change we perceived in him. He walked heavily, and with stooping shoulders, now, while a cloud of gloomy reserve had settled upon his face. At last, one evening late on in June, my husband induced him to come in and take tea with us. The meal would have been an uncom- fortable one had not the boys been present. Our organist had always been a somewhat silent man. Few good musicians are given to much talk. The habit of uncommunicativeness in which he had now en- wrapped himself had, however, I am sure, grown almost as oppressive to him as it was to others. It appeared to me that he was continually dwelling upon some melancholy topic, and considering it in all its bearings. I guessed the subject of his thoughts, and I even fancied he was wishing to consult me upon it, for I found his’ eyes, fixed, now and again, with a mournful, questioning gaze, upon my face - comichooks.conir