The Argosy — page 220: what you’re looking at

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

206 How it Happened. impressed with a strange and strong conviction that the money would, sooner or later, be traced and restored. In spite of the ever growing improbability that this should happen, as the days and weeks went by, the persuasion was still with me, and I longed to try and impart some of my hopefulness to our poor friend. I also desired to make him aware of my sympathy with him. Frances and I never talked of this sad affair, but I had quite relinquished my hope of sending her back to the Academy stronger and happier than she had left it. I began, indeed, to doubt whether she could ever return to the routine of school life, and my husband sometimes advised me to write to her friends and recommend that she should be recalled home. She grew more beautiful and ethereal looking every day, until we felt, at times, as if we had some gentle, wistful denizen of another world on a visit with us. John and I regarded her almost as if she were a child of our own, to be petted and loved and cared for; and she accepted and returned our affection with interest. I was out alone one evening. On my way home I lingered upon the old bridge. I was leaning against the parapet, looking out at the sea, lit up by the red glow of sunset, when I heard many quick foot- steps pass me by, while someone, walking with a slow and heavy tread, paused at my side. I turned round. Six grey monks went up the road in procession, and Louis Carter stood near me, hesitating, as if in some doubt as to whether or not he should delay. His gait was weary, his shoulders were bent, and I saw many silver threads gleam- ing in his dark hair. I put my two hands within his arm to detain him, uttering an exclamation of pleasure ; but when his eyes met mine I started back, alarmed at the wild and desperate expression in them. He looked so utterly hopeless that I shuddered instinctively. “T understand,” he said, bitterly. “Of course you do not wish to be seen with me. I will go on.” ‘Oh, you must not; indeed, it is not that,” I cried, my eyes filling with tears. ‘I was only sorry to see you so very—sad.” “What should a dishonoared man be but sad?” he said, heavily. “TI have been wishing so much to meet you,” I exclaimed. “I want to tell you not to despair about this money. I feel sure—I know it will be found.” “Have you heard anything of it, then ?” he asked, eagerly. I was obliged to confess that I had not, but I did my best to instil some hopefulness into him concerning the loss. He seemed a little cheered and comforted by the sympathy I displayed in his trouble. He walked along at my side ; and the load of care upon his brow really appeared to lighten as we talked. We were drawing near the College, when he inquired with sudden abruptness whether Frances was still with me. | comicbooks.com