The Argosy — page 18: what you’re looking at

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

8 The Master of Greylands. ‘¢T cannot help thinking that Greylands might get on better if it were rid of them,” was the short reply of Mr. Castlemaine: but he passed at once from the subject. ‘And we are not to have this fair young lady-hostess at the dinner- table’s head to-night?” he cried in a different and a warm tone, as he gazed admiringly at his ntece. ‘Mary Ursula, it js a sin. I wish some customs were changed! And you will be all alone !” ‘¢¢ Never less alone than when alone,’ ” quoted Mary Ursula: “and that is true of me, uncle mine. But to-night I shall not be alone in any sense, for Agatha Mountsorrel 1s coming to bear me company.” ‘‘Agatha Mountsorrel ! I don’t care for her, Mary Ursula. She ts desperately high and mighty.” ‘‘ All the Mountsorrels are that—with their good descent and their w:alth, I suppose they think they have cause for i1t—but I lke her. And I fancy that is her carriage, stopping now. There’s six o'clock uncle ; and you will be keeping the soup waiting.” Six was striking from the room’s silver-gilt time-piece. ‘I suppose I must go,” said Mr. Castlemaine; “I'd rather stay and spend the evening with you. Fare you well, my dear. I will come and say good night to you before I leave.” As Mr. Castlemaine trod the corridor, he met Miss Mountsorre} coming up: a handsome, haughty girl in a scarlet cloak and hood. She returned his salute with a sweeping bow, and passed on her Wye | The dinner was one of those perfect little repasts that the banker was renowned for. The three stranger guests were Sir Richard Blake-Gor- don ; the Reverend John Marston, vicar of St. Mark’s and also of Grey- lands, generally called by the public “ Parson Mas’on;” and Mr. Knivett, family solicitor to the Castlemaines. The wines were excellent, the reunion altogether sociable and pleasant; and the banker's brow gave no indication of the strife within. It is true Mr. Marston took his full share of the wine—as many a parson then appeared to think it quite religious to do—and talked rather too much accordingly. But the guests enjoyed themselves; and broke up before eleven. Mr. Castle- maine, who could drink his wine with any man, but took care never to take more than he could carry as a gentleman, proceeded to his niece’s room to say good night to her; as he had promised. ‘‘T hope I have not kept you up, my dear,” he began as he entered. “Oh no, Uncle James,” was Mary Ursula’s answer. ‘I never go to bed until I have wished papa good night.” ‘¢'Where’s Miss Mountsorrel ? ” ‘“‘'The carriage came for her at ten o'clock.” ‘¢ And pray where’s Master William, that he has not- been here ;this evening?” Her face flushed with the question. ‘Do you think he is hare cath (C(O) in —_)