The Argosy — page 186: what you’re looking at

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

174 The Missing Rubies. The old man’s face looked sadly drawn and haggard in the fresh light of morning. Absurd and unreasonable as his expectations were, he had in truth expected the obedience of a daughter from Beatrice Ward. Finding her so fresh and fair, he had centred all his hopes in her, and she had become, as the Lindricks well knew, the great interest in his fast-declining life. “Let me go back to my home,” she continued, gently. ‘“ Why should I stay here and quarrel with you? You don’t understand me ; you can’t realise how miserable it is to live with people who believe these cruel untruths about the man I love, Forget me, and find some other girl who will be grateful for your benefits and submissive to your will. I am not submissive, and I can’t even be grateful.” While she was speaking, a new expression had dawned in the eyes that were closely watching her. A sudden thought had flashed into the old man’s brain. He could now see such a clear light shining on the difficulty that he could afford to speak in an indulgent tone. “T can’t so easily resign my adopted daughter,” he said, with an affectionate air that touched her. “For the present, however, we will let this subject rest. I am a shattered old man, and have to pay dearly for exciting myself. Now shall go to my room and try to get composed. You will not see me at luncheon.” He turned away, leaving her under a hawthorn that shed its frag- rant snows upon her head. Standing in the shade, and following him with pitying eyes, she saw him go pottering towards the house with all possible speed. How feeble he was, and how cruel it seemed to put him into a passion! She was ready to blame herself for losing her temper with anyone so sickly and frail. A distant clock struck eleven. It was good to know that she might count upon two whole hours of solitude and peace. Turning her back to the house, she went quickly down the flowery path that led to the old summer-house. Here, indeed, there was per- fect quietness and repose, but after sitting still for a few seconds, she remembered that Alma might come in search of her. In her present mood, an interview with her hostess was the very thing that she could not bear with patience. If Alma had but kept silence, this painful scene with Mr. Redburn might have been spared her. Just outside the summer-house was a gate which opened out upon the high road. It was locked; but the key was in the lock, and ina moment more Beatrice was beyond the Lindricks’ grounds and at liberty. The May morning was as warm as many a dayin June. She wen on and on, exulting in the air and sunlight, and making straight for that narrow lane which would lead her to the ivy-grown bridge. Here she paused, finding a strange charm in the spot, and resting her arms on the mossy brickwork, she looked down thoughtfully into the waters that went hurrying along below. The stream seemed to murmur to her of a time when a boy’s feet comicbooks.com