The Argosy — page 318: what you’re looking at

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

302 Within their Gates. her lips to do it. What caused the shyness? Merely the reticence of girlish modesty—of a well-trained mind? Ah, no; it was some- thing more than that. Mary Owen had learnt to love. This stranger, who had taken refuge within their gates, and of whom they knew nothing, had stolen her heart for all time. Had Tom Owen, who was very fond of fast speech, known the state of affairs, he might have said he would not give a button for old Hale’s chance now. One warm evening, when the whole of the family were sitting on the old-fashioned, capacious benches outside the windows, the stranger ap- peared unexpectedly amongst them. Tall, worn, shadowy, his graceful figure—and it was graceful—appeared in the doorway. Smiling, hesi- tating, as if beseeching a greeting, he looked down upon them. They welcomed him warmly. Moved perhaps by his still wan looks, the farmer started up to give him his arm to a seat; the children buzzed about, eager to help, and put out their hands ; all congratulated him on his recovery. All but Mr. Hale. That gentleman said nothing, and, amidst so many welcomers, the omission was not noticed. Gradually, as if by instinct, the conviction of what this stranger was becoming to Mary Owen had been taking hold of Alfred Hale’s mind. She was learning to love him—perhaps he was learning to love her. Had the tutor wanted confirmation of this, he had got it now. He caught the low, involuntary, passionate sound that broke from her lips when Shepard thus suddenly appeared ; he saw the rush of crimson to her face, the flashing light of love in the eyes before the eyelids had time to hide them. Sitting back in the bench comer, Mr. Hale watched everything ; his reflections were very much more bitter than sweet. More forcibly and clearly than he had hitherto done, he realised the position of affairs— that this mysterious stranger had stolen from him the heart of his best love. There could be no mistake, none. He watched Mary’s frank- ness with the stranger, and her solicitude for him—that he should lave a comfortable seat, that he should not sit in a draught, that he did not feel exhausted and weak. More than this, he watched the manner of the latter with her—that easy yet respectful familiarity of the well-bred man ; which even he, Alfred Hale, had not yet attained to. Why, they were as much at home with one another as though they had been acquainted for years. Mr. Shepard shone to advantage that evening. None could mistake © his superiority. He talked as a man of society—and of good society ; and charmed them all. The tutor, uneasy both in mind and body, resented it palpably; and Mr. Shepard, detecting this, resolved to take a little amusement out of him, and behaved just as though he had some right of proprietorship in Mary. How much of this was assumed for Mr. Hale’s benefit, of course he could not know. That the stranger, aware of his jealous. scrutiny, was comicbooks.com