The Argosy — page 19: what you’re looking at

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

The Master of Greylands. 9 evening, Uncle James? Mrs. Webb warned him that it would not be etiquette. How have you enjoyed yourself?”’ “‘Passably. The parson took slightly more than was necessary of after-dinner port. What toast, do you suppose, he suddenly gave us?” ““ How can I tell,” she rejoined, looking up. “We were talking of you at the moment, and the parson started up, his glass in his hand. ‘Here's to the fairest and sweetest maiden in the universe,’ said he, ‘and may she soon be Lady Blake-Gordon !’” “Oh, how could he!” exclaimed Miss Castlemaine, colouring pain- fully in her distress. ‘ And Sir Richard present !” “As to Sir Richard, I thought he was going frantic,” pursued Mr. Castlemaine. ‘ You know what he is. ‘Zounds, Sir Parson,’ he cried, Starting up in his turn ‘do you wish me dead? Is it not enough that the young lady should first become Mistress Blake-Gordon? Am I so old and useless as to be wished out of the world for the sake of my son’s aggrandisement ?’—and so on. Marston pacified him at last, protesting that he had only said Mistress Blake-Gordon ; or that, if he had not, he had meant to say it. And now, good night, my dear, for I don’t care to keep my horses standing longer in the cold. When are you coming to Greylands’ Rest?” ‘‘ Whenever you like to invite me, Uncle James. I wish you could get papa over for a week. It would give him rest: and he has not appeared to be well of late. He seems full of care.” “Of business, my dear, not care. Though, of course, undertakings such as his must bring care with them. You propose it to him; and come with him: if he will come for anybody's asking, it is yours.” ‘You will give my love to Ethel ; and ” Mr. Castlemaine, stooping to kiss her, arrested the words with a whisper. ‘“‘ When is it to be, Mary Ursula? When shall we be called upon to congratulate Mistress Blake-Gordon ? Soon?” ‘Oh, uncle, I don’t know.” She laughed and blushed at the out- spoken words: but in her inmost heart was as happy as a queen. CHAPTER II. THE GREY LADIES, A ROMANTIC, picturesque fishing village was that of Greylands, as secluded as any English village can well be. Stilborough was an inland town; Greylands was on the sea-coast. The London coaches, on their way from Stilborough to the great city, would traverse the nearly three miles of dreary road intervening between the town and the village, dash suddenly, as it were, upon the sea on entering the village;-and then turn sharply off in its midst by the Dolphin Inn, and go on their_ at (C(O)