The Argosy — page 225: what you’re looking at

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

How it Happened, 2mt It was as she said. When she got into the railway carriage at the junction, the evening she left. Redchester, she had almost immediately found a pocket-book at her feet. She opened it, and saw that it con- tained a good deal of money ; but she also perceived, at once, who the owner was ; and, on the spot, she resolved to keep her discovery private for a time, so as to punish the organist for what she called his barbarous ill-treatment of her, by letting him think that his property was irretriev- ably lost. She had, of course, no idea that the notes really belonged to the Redchester bank, nor did she at all suspect their value, for she never gave more than a mere cursory glance at the contents of her e. “TI thought it would be dishonourable to pry into his secrets,” she sobbed forth now. “I think your conscience must have also warned you that it was neither honourable nor Christian-like to delay, even for one unnecessary’ hour, restoring the pocket-book to its owner,” I said, sadly. . “It did, it did,” she cried, in an agony of remorse. “But I per- suaded myself that it was all fair to punishhim. I tried to think I was doing everything that was necessary when I brought the thing back, untouched, to you, to return to him.” It would be quite impossible for me to give any just idea of how terribly distressing I found that day. Frances lay at death’s door, and Fenella sat beside her, hour after hour, looking indescribably miserable ; while I wandered about from room to room, unable to rest anywhere. The weather was oppressively hot, and the scorching beams of the July sun were blazing in all directions. Towards evening, however, a light breeze sprang up, and came, wafting refreshment to us, from the west. I went out on the steps to enjoy it, when the twilight shadows were gathering over the half-deserted town. I was leaning against the door-post, with my eyes closed, when I felt a hand upon my arm, although I had heard no approaching foot- step. I looked up, and saw, at my side, what I took, at first, to be the wraith, or ghost, of my poor friend, Louis Carter. But it was he, him- self. He wére no hat, and looked as though he had been fiercely buffeted by the storm of the previous night: his clothes were laden with dust. He stood before me, stooping under the weight of un- utterable weariness and depression. “You see, I could not rest, after all, until I had bidden you farewell in person,” he said. “I could not lie down in peace, also, without knowing for certain that Frances had gone before me. Some one had said she was dying, just before J went away from this. Was it true?” “She is not dead,” I said. ‘She is asleep, and will recover. Come and see her.” I held his arm with both my hands, and drew him. within the doorway, up the stairs and into my little friend’s rom." She ———— comicbooks.com