The Argosy — page 317: what you’re looking at

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

Within their Gates. 301 father, who distrusted his reticent guest, and Mr. Hale, who was jealously suspicious of Mary's attendance in the sick-room. But David Owen, though he probably knew very little of Arab customs, was Arabian in his ideas of hospitality; and the embryo clergyman nursed his jealous wrath in silence. Thus the days continued to go on. Mr, Shepard improved rapidly in strength, once convalescence began to set in. A sofa from the best sitting-room was moved upstairs for him; and as he lay upon it in the old-fashioned large bow-window, open to the balmy air, Mary would sit near, work in hand: sometimes one of her sisters with her, more often not. The girls did not like the confinement of the sick-chamber ; and believed this sick gentleman had fallen at the gate for their especial benefit: for Mary had little time now to see that they pre- pared their lessons properly for the dame’s school to which they went in the morning. Meanwhile, his and Mary’s intercourse was becoming quite easy, natural, and confidential :; confidential except as regarded his past life. ‘‘ What's that you are so busy over?” he asked her one afternoon. “This ?” holding up some new work. “It is a shirt for Tom.” “You don’t mean to say that you make all the shirts ?” “Partly so. The girls do the plain sewing and hemming at school, and I finish them.” ‘ And you darn all the stockings ? ” “Yes. Since my mother died, the sewing has fallen to me.” “JT should think your mother was a good woman—judging by your- self?” “She was, indeed. Good and refined ; Aow refined, how good, you can never know. She was a lady born, and displeased her family when she married my father. He was only a farmer.” “I am sorry to have alluded to her—forgive me,” was the hasty apology, as he saw the tears in Mary’s eyes. She miled at him through her wet eyelashes. “ Do not be sorry. I like to speak of her. I will show you her likeness some day ; it is painted in miniature. She was very beautiful, with a soft, sweet face.” “ Just like you, I’ll wager?” “Ye—s,” hesitated Mary, blushing violently at having to admit it, in conjunction with what she had just said. ‘ But I can never be half as nice-looking as she was; or half as good.” “You must let other people judge of that,” was the answer, given with a significant smile. And thus, through the lovely days of closing summer, they sat and talked, growing more confidential with one another each day ; his tone more unconsciously tender. He had taken to call her “‘ Mary,” and had asked her more than once why she would not call him by his Christian name, Francis. Mary, blushing ever, could not, in’ very shyness, bring comicbooks.com