The Argosy — page 400: what you’re looking at

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

382 FEATHERSTON’S STORY. ee ed AT THE MAISON ROUGE. | fe their new mourning, at the English Church, the Sunday after the interment of Lavinia Preen, appeared Captain and Mrs. Fennel. The congregation looked at them more than at the parson. Poor Nancy’s eyes were so blinded with tears that she could not see the letters in her Prayer-Book. Only one little week ago, when she had sat there, Lavinia was on the bench at her side, alive and well ; and now It was with difficulty Nancy kept herself from breaking down. Two or three acquaintances caught her hand on leaving the church, whispering a few words of sympathy in her ear. Not one but felt truly sorry for her. The Captain’s hat, which had a wide band round it, was perpetually raised in acknowledgment of silent greetings, as he piloted his wife back to their house, the petite Maison Rouge. A very different dinner-table, this, which the two sat down to from last Sunday’s, in the matter of cheerfulness. Nancy was about half- way through the wing of the fowl her husband had helped her to, when a choking sob caught her throat. She dropped her knife and fork. ‘Oh, Edwin, I cannot! I cannot eat for my unhappy thoughts ! This time last Sunday, Lavinia was seated at the table with us. Now——”_ Nancy’s speech collapsed altogether. ‘Come, come,” said Captain Fennel. ‘I hope you are not going to be hysterical again, Nancy. It is frightfully sad; I know that ; but this prolonged grief will do no good. Goon with your dinner ; it is a very nice chicken.” Nancy gave a great sob, and spoke impulsively. ‘‘ I don’t believe you regret her one bit, Edwin!” Edwin Fennel in turn laid down his knife and fork and stared at his wife. A curious expression sat on his face. ‘Not regret her!” he repeated with emphasis, ‘Why, Nancy, I regret her every hour of the day. But I do not make a parade of my regrets. Why sbould I ?—to what end? Come, come, my dear ; you will be all the better for your dinner.” He went on with his own as he spoke. Nancy took up her knife and fork with a hopeless sigh. Dinner over, Captain Fennel went to his cupboard and brought in some of the chartreuse. Two glasses, this time, instead of three. He might regret Lavinia, as he said, every hour of the day ; IDOOKSHGOl COMM @