The Argosy — page 91: what you’re looking at

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

The Missing Rubies. 81 Beatrice, his own sunny Beatrice, looked up at him with misery in her eyes, and answered him not a word. The May of that year was so bright and balmy that it seemed to have forestalled the fuller sweetness of June. Sitting alone in a compartment of a first-class carriage, Beatrice looked out upon richly-wooded slopes, all wearing the tender green of early summer. The train had left London more than two hours ago, and was now drawing near Fairbridge in the light of a lovely after- noon ; a light that shone on broad, marshy meadows, golden with large water-buttercups and fragrant with the sweet breath of hawthorn bushes, Then came a stately grey church, just visible through the light foliage of oak and beech, then an ivy-grown bridge arching over a swift stream, and, lastly, a quiet railway-station, and Colonel Lin- drick’s tall figure on the platform. No one would have guessed that a heavy heart was beating in the gitl’s bosom, as she stepped quietly out of the train. The Colonel thought her the daintiest specimen of womanhood that had charmed his eyes for many a day. She wore a brown tweed costume, tailor- made, a little brown velvet toque, and a single red rose and spray of fern at her throat. Herg was the kind of beauty that looks best in plain attire, and Harriet, who had an instinctive knowledge of the art of dress, always proved a safe adviser. “If I were only a young man!” thought Colonel Lindrick, as he helped her into his carriage, and placed himself by her side. Miserable as she really was, a certain proper pride enabled Beatrice to play her part to perfection. Moreover, she had no grudge against Colonel Lindrick, who had never given himself those guardian- like airs which made Mr. Redburn’s manner distasteful to her. With the Colonel, she could be at ease, helping him to sustain a conversa- tion, showing just the right amount of enthusiasm about the scenery, and asking just the right questions about Fairbridge and its inhabi- tants. The drive was short. Half an hour after they had left the railway-station, the carriage turned into a well-kept sweep, shaded by old chestnuts in full blossom, and then drew up before the pillared portico of Oak Lodge. Alma, looking her best in a pretty grey gown, came forward to meet her guest with her pleasant woman-of-the-world manner. Mr. Redburn, with real feeling in that yellow visage of his, took Beatrice by both hands, and surveyed her with quite a fatherly pride. They seated her in an arm-chair near the window, gave her tea, and sur- rounded her with a genial atmosphere. When she went to her room to dress for dinner, Beatrice found that a good deal of her depression had passed away. Standing for a minute at a large bay-window, she gazed across the smooth lawn and gay flower-beds towards a low wall surmounted by tall shrubs, and knew that this was the boundary that divided the grounds of Oak Lodge from those of Meadow House. Along that road, just seen comicbooks.com