The Argosy — page 183: what you’re looking at

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

The Master of Greylands. 167 lands’ Rest, came Harry Castlemaine on his spinted horse. His over-coat was rolled up and strapped on the saddle, and he looked as though mounted for a journey. “Going out a pleasuring, Mr. Harry?” cried the landlady, as he reined-in. ‘¢Going out a businessing,” corrected the young man, in his free and careless manner, as he nodded and smiled at Anthony—for he did not share in his father’s discourteous behaviour to their new relative, though he had not yet made advances to any intimacy. “A beautiful sunset, 1s 1t not?” “Very beautiful,” replied Anthony. ‘“‘T am bound for Newerton, Mrs. Bent,” resumed Harry. ‘Can I do anything for you there ?” } ** Nothing, thank you, sir.” ‘What, not even choose you some cap ribbons? Newerton nbbons, you know, take the conceit out of those at Stilborough.” ‘You must always have your joke, Mr. Harry! Asif a fine young gentleman like you would trouble himself to choose an old woman’s ribbons !” | “See if I don’t bring you some! Meanwhile, John, suppose you give me a glass of ale, to speed me on my journey.” The landlord brought the ale, handing it up on a waiter ; somewhat to his own discomfort, for the horse was prancing and rearing. Harry Castlemaine drank it; and with a general nod round, an intimation that he should return on the morrow, and a wave of the hand to his cousin, he rode away. Anthony went round the corner of the house to look after him. Not being anything great in horsemanship himself, he admired those who were. He admired also the tall, fine form, the handsome face, and the free, frank bearing of Harry Castlemaine; and a hope in that moment rose in his heart that they might become good friends if he remained in England. He stood and watched him up the road until its bending hid him from view. His way lay past the Grey Nunnery, past the coastguard station higher up, and so onwards. Newerton was a town of some importance at about ten miles distance. The remaining events of the evening, so far as they concerned Anthony Castlemaine, were destined to assume importance and to be discussed for days and weeks afterwards. He took his dinner at six, John Bent waiting on him as usual; afterwards, he sat alone for an hour or two in deep thought. At least, Mrs. Bent, coming in to take away his coffee-cup, assumed him to be deep in thought, as he did not speak to her: an unusual thing. He sat between the table and the fire, his elbow resting on the former and his fingers pressing his temple. The landlady had never seen him so still, nor look so solemn; there was a cloud as of some dread care upon his face—she,déclared so to ECOMicoOOKS.CoOm