The Argosy — page 153: what you’re looking at

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

Te Anoosr, The Miller's Revenge. 139 ‘‘¢What voices, my uncle? I do not hear them,’ “<«Then, old as I am, my ears are better than thine,’ said Lebrun, contemptuously. ‘¢ Next time he went to the door Gaspard followed him. “Hist! There they are again. Canst thou not hear them ?’ ‘“¢T can ‘hear no voices save those of the wind and the tide,’ answered Gaspard. “<“Go! Thou art dead asleep,’ answered Lebrun, as he shut the door.: ‘ The night 1s full of voices. Soon I shall know what it is they have to tell me.’ “As the night wore on, Gaspard, on his warm seat by the fire, was gra- dually overcome by sleep. He was awoke by his uncle shaking him roughly by the shoulders, and on opening his eyes he saw that it was already daybreak. The door was wide open, and the inrush of the wind had put out the candles. “« Awake, Gaspard ! awake! There are not several voices this time, but one.’ ““¢ Whose voice ?’ asked Gaspard, with a nameless dread creeping over him. ““*The voice of la Mére Babet. Canst thou not hear her calling? ‘‘Pierre Lebrun—Pierre Lebrun,” she says, ‘‘I want thee. Come!”’ ‘“¢¢T hear nothing but the wind and the sea. It is all a bad dream, my uncle,’ answered the white-faced Gaspard. “*<Fool! I tell thee she is calling me. She has a great secret to reveal, and I dare not refuse to go.’ “Without waiting for an answer he left the house, and went off towards the stable. Gaspard, nerveless for once in his life, and shiver- ing with fright and cold, stood leaning against the door-post, and looking out into the gray, chill dawn. Presently Lebrun appeared, leading his old horse by the bridle. ‘ You are not going away, my uncle!’ pleaded Gaspard ; ‘ you are not——’ ‘‘* Hark ! La Mere Babet calls me again,’ interrupted Lebrun. ‘I come! I come!’ he cried aloud; and, almost before Gaspard knew what had happened, his uncle had scrambled on to the mare’s back, and was riding at a sharp pace down the hill, his white hair, uncovered, fluttering in the wind. At the bottom of the hill he tured, and waved his hand to Gaspard, and then set his horse to breast the sweep of moor- land that formed the opposite side of the valley. ‘Gaspard, like one in a dream, stood watching him. What if la Mere Babet had really called his uncle? Might it not be his turn to be called next? His heart seemed to be nipped in a vice as this thought crossed his brain, but still he kept his straining eyes fixed on Lebrun. Gradually the feeling of fear on his own account was lost in one of wonder as to what his uncle’s ultimate intentions could be~. He watched the horse and its rider slowly mount the opposite hill-si, de ti.the summit comicaooks GO)