The Argosy — page 315: what you’re looking at

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

Within their Gates. 299 proceeded to ask. ‘These related chiefly to her family—her father, brothers, sisters, herself—but when his curiosity was satisfied on these points, Mr. Shepard went on to other subjects. He asked if they had many neighbours, and if these neighbours often visited them, and whether the district, amid which chance had thrown him, was not exceptionally lonely and solitary. Finally he inquired if the young man he had seen on the night of his arrival was one of the family. Then the glow on Mary’s cheek deepened a little, and the white lids drooped over her blue eyes. “No,” she answered. ‘That was Mr. Hale. He was a tutor at the school, and had been admitted, as a favour, to reside with them, but he was not one of the family.” “You mean he is not related to you,” said the gentleman with a smile ; ‘‘ but perhaps he belongs to you in a different manner.” “He does not belong to us in any manner,” said Mary, blushing more vividly now. Of course she understood what he meant ; but it was quite true that the good-looking young usher did ot belong to her —though it was equally true that he would have very much liked to do so. “He must have very bad taste, then,” said her companion. “If you are as kind a mistress as you are a nurse, / should ask nothing better than to belong to you.” The girl lifted her long lashes and shot a glance at him. Badinage was a thing unknown in that rustic district, and compliments were indissolubly connected with giggling and blushing and absurdity un- utterable. Being sensible, and not altogether uncultivated, Miss Owen had never liked them, and now she wondered what this stranger meant. Was he in earnest, or was he laughing at her? The stranger in question thought, meanwhile, that she made as pretty a picture as he had seen in many a day—the deep green foliage touched with gold, outside the window by which she sat, forming a background for her graceful head with its wealth of soft brown hair, her delicate, decided profile, and lovely complexion. He was in a mood to enjoy any slight passing pleasure; and it was more than a slight pleasure to watch Mary just then. “ Why do you look at me so?” he asked. “ Have I said anything that you do not like? Is there any harm in thinking that if I were Mr. Hale I should certainly belong to you?” “Yes, there is harm,” said Mary, but she could not help dimpling into a smile ; “ because you don’t mean it.” “Don’t I?” said he, with a faint laugh, ‘“ Perhaps I know more about that than you do. But indeed, there is no need to say ‘if I were Mr, Hale,’ for I do belong to you by the right of treasure trove— that is, if you care to own me. When a man finds a piece of stray property in the public road, it belongs to him; and you found me there.” Da OOKIE comicbooks.com