The Argosy — page 323: what you’re looking at

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

. Within their Gates. 307 grown to like him so much! It seemed to her just then that it would have been, easier to part with Tom or David. The farmer went with him as far as the outer gate, shaking hands with him once again, by way of farewell; and his guest walked away with a quick step. Mr. Owen, shading his eyes with his hand from the sunlight, watched the tall, slender, gentlemanly figure disappear from sight. “T hope with all my heart he'll get clear away,” soliloquised he. ‘*T can’t help liking him, in spite of all.” The sun was sloping towards the west, when Mary Owen came tripping along the fields from the poor neighbour she had been visiting, swaying her basket to and fro in her hand in very gleesome- ness of heart. This part of the land was extremely wild. On the right, down in a deep glen, lay a mill that belonged to her father. It had always been a favourite resort of hers, it was so quiet and solitary ; and many a time, during these few last golden days, had she and their stranger-guest sat on the green bank under the thick trees there, listening to the sound of the rushing water-wheel. But the mill was not at work to-day, and was deserted by the men. She ran down the narrow path, intending to pass it, and ascend the wild, rocky path on the other side on her way home. Perhaps some latent hope whispered to her that Ae might have strolled as far this sunny afternoon. Yes! there he was. He seemed to have been sitting on the shady bank waiting for her; but he stood up as she came in sight. Flushed, smiling, glowing with beauty, Mary ran lightly down. It was only when she reached him, and saw how pale and resolute he looked, that she felt surprised. For the warm, glowing welcome she was accustomed to was neither on his countenance nor tongue. “T am glad that you have come!” he said, taking her hands. “I feared you might not. I thought you might be staying till night with Jenny Thomas, the old woman you went to see.” “Nay, I promised that I would be home for tea,” she answered. ‘* And do you always keep your promises, Mary ?” “ Always,” she answered, blushing under the intent gaze. ‘“ At least, I try to do so, I am sure I have never broken one to you. Have I?” “Never as yet,” he answered. ‘“ But”—here a curiously hard look settled on his face—‘‘ I may put you to the test now. Sit down. I did not think it would have had to be quite so soon. Mary!” She looked up at him in silence: awed at the sharp, solemn tone in which he spoke the word. “ Last evening, when we sat in this very spot, and the children were scampering up and down the break-neck path here, I asked you to be-my wife when circumstances permitted, and you promised hat you would be.” comichooks.conn