The Argosy — page 76: what you’re looking at

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

66 Margaret’s Grave. dered to understand me. She was my sister. There was a difference of several years in our ages, and I cared for her almost as I should have cared for a child. I was Viola Margaret, she Margaret Viola: it was a fancy of our mother’s to give us the same names, which were her own, reversed. During my mother’s last illness we were staying here, at Guerre. Richard Ensor, travelling from place to place, as he loved to do, came here one day, and was introduced to us. He was taken with my sister, and she with him, and they married upon impulse before they had known each other a month. Close upon that, my mother died. Her income, a very small one, died with her, and I went to London to look out for a situation. Mr. Ensor and my sister would have had me stay with them at Guerre, where they intended to remain for a time, but I wanted to be independent. In London I met your papa, Leslie. He had once been on the closest terms of friendship with my father; and he insisted upon my making my home with you in America, but—you must pardon me for saying this, Leslie—your mother received me so coldly, and manifested so great a dislike to ‘the English,’ that I did not stay with her a week ; as you may have remembered to have heard. You were at school. I had other friends in America, at a distance from you, and I made an excuse to go to them: and I left your mother’s house without once having spoken to her of my sister or of Mr. Ensor; for in truth Mrs. Russell repelled me so much that I could not enter upon any topic connected with self. I procured a situation as gover- ness close to the home of my new friends. The first news that reached me was of the death of Mr. Russell ; the next news was from France, and told me of the death of my poor young sister, who died and was buried at Guerre. After that I heard nothing of Mr. Ensor, and a twelvemonth, or so, passed. I was leaving my situation, and your mother wrote to ask me to stay a little time with her and be your companion, I——” , “‘ And you came; and joined Mr. Ensor,” interrupted Leslie; “and you appeared not to know each other, but to be strangers.” “Even so. I had not been in your house ten minutes, Leslie, when your mother spoke to me of a Mr. Ensor. She thought he was making up to you, and she was not quite satisfied about it: firstly, because she did not know whether he had good means, secondly because he was English. The name struck me. ‘Is he a widower?’ I asked. * Widower!’ she indignantly replied, ‘what put that in your head, Margaret Grey? Do you suppose Leslie would think of marrying a widower? She hates them!’ But that same evening I found it was the same Richard Ensor. He'seized 2 moment to speak tome. ‘Be silent until I can explain,’ he whispered. And when I saw him alone he entered on his explanation. It appeared that he fell in love with you at first sight. He did not at first mention that he.was'a; swidower: comicbooks.com