The Argosy — page 226: what you’re looking at

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

212 How it Happened. was not sleeping, as I had fancied. She saw and recognised her lover at once, seeming in no way disconcerted or surprised at his strange and wild appearance. ““You have come at last, then,” she said, softly. “I am so glad, and I am sure, now, that the money must soon be found.” “It has been found already,” I cried, joyfully. And thus everything came right in the end, after all; more right, at least, than could have been expected ; for though Frances recovered, and married the man she loved, the Louis Carter who returned to us that evening was never again quite what he had once been. There are afflictions sent to some of us which leave a sting for ever, as regards this life. His trial had been of this description. In this world it is hard to straighten that which has once been made crooked ; and Fenella, with all her sincere and bitter repentance, could not restore physical strength and energy to the man she had injured. She has been much sobered and improved by all that has happened, and she has lately married my brother. Thus neither of the girls became a governess. ALR LLRAGIT* TO-MORROW. What if we walk the wastes of life to-day, Weighed down by cares and sore of heart with sorrow? ‘There waits for us across the dreary way The golden dawn and splendour of to;morrow. ‘To-morrow our path shall blossom like the meads of May. To-day from Heaven’s peace we feel outcast, We marvel if God marks the falling sparrow, And to the shorn lamb tempers the fierce blast— Ah, well! we shall get back our faith to-morrow. To-morrow our doubts and fears and travails will be past. ‘To-day we hug our pains and nurse our smarts, And have no courage to pluck out the arrow Pressing with venomed point into our hearts— But we shall be more firm and brave to-morrow. ‘To-morrow we shall more nobly, wisely act our parts. To-day our souls are torn with death-like throes, But in the furrows scarred by torturing harrow, The master of the seed-fields patient sows The harvest we shall reap with joy to-morrow. To-morrow our wilderness shall blossom as the rose. comicbooks.com