The Argosy — page 103: what you’re looking at

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

The Master of Greylands. or She was beginning to recover herself. She saw that he did not look at all like a young man who would gratuitously offer any lady an insult: but like a true gentleman. Moreover, there flashed upon her notice the strong likeness his face bore to the Castlemaines ; and she thought that what he had done he had done 1n some error. ‘Tam not Miss Castlemaine,” she condescended to explain, her tone losing part of its anger, but not its pride. “ Thisis my home, and people often call me by the name. But—if I were Miss Castlemaine —who are you, sir, that you should claim to be my cousin? The Castlemaines have no strange cousins.” ‘“T am Anthony Castlemaine, young lady; son of the late Basil Castlemaine, the heir of Greylands. I come from an interview with my Uncle James; and I—I beg your pardon most heartily once more.” ‘‘ Anthony Castlemaine, the son of Basil Castlemaine!” she ex- claimed, nearly every emotion forgotten in astonishment; but a con- viction, nevertheless, seizing upon her that it was true. ‘The son of the lost Basil !” “I am, indeed, his son,” replied Anthony. ‘“ He is dead, and I have come over to claim, and, I hope, enter into, my patrimony; Greylands’ Rest.” CHAPTER V. THE BALL, Licuts gleamed from the windows of the banker’s house at Stilborough ; a flood of light blazed from the hall, and was reflected on the pave- ment outside, and on the colours of the flowering plants just within the entrance. Mr. Peter Castlemaine and Miss Castlemaine gave a dance that night ; and it was the custom to open the door early, and keep it open, for the arrival of the expected guests. The reception-rooms were in readiness, and gay with their wax lights and flowers. They opened mostly into one another. The largest of them was appropriated to dancing; all its furniture and its carpet had been removed; benches occupied the walls, under the innumerable sconces bearing lights; and the floor was chalked artist- ically, in a handsome pattern of flowers, after the fashion of the day. In the small apartment that was her own sitting-room, stood Mary Ursula. In her rich robes of white silk and lace, and in the jewels which had been her mother’s, and which it was her father’s wish she should wear on grand occasions; with her stately form and her most lovely face; she looked of almost regal beauty. Excitement had flushed her cheeks; on her delicate and most perfect features sat an animation not often seen there. Whatever evil might; be over- hanging the house, at least no prevision of it rested on Miss Castle- maine; and perhaps few young ladies in all the kicg¢dorm scwcd be”