The Argosy — page 368: what you’re looking at

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

348 The Master of Greylands. dead tired. Mrs. Bent, standing at the inn door, saw her, brought her in, and set her down to a substantial tea-table. She told the landlady she had been to Stilborough to make purchases—which would be sent by coach on the morrow, and left for her at the Dolphin. “Ned shall take the parcels up to Greylands’ Rest,” said Mrs. Bent. What with the welcome rest to her tired limbs, and what with Mrs. Bent’s hospitable gossip, Madame Guise sat longer than she had in- tended. It was nearly dark when she went over to the Nunnery—for she had brought a toy and some bon-bons for Marie. The Grey Sisters received her as kindly as usual; but they told her the little one did not seem very well, and Madame Guise went up. Marie was in her little bed by the side of Sister Betsey’s. She seemed restless and feverish. Poor Charlotte Guise began to think that perhaps this climate did not agree with her so well as her own. Taking off her things, she sat down to stay with the child. “Mrs. Castlemaine said it would be quite midnight before they got home, as they were to make a very long day, so I am in no hurry for an hour or two,” she observed. ‘ Miles will think I am lost; but I will tell him how it 1s.” ‘“‘ Has your little one ever had the measles?” asked Sister Mona. - “The measles?” repeated Madame Guise, puzzled for the moment. “Qh, les rougeoles—-pardon my forgetfulness—no, she has not. She has never had anything.” ‘Then I think—I am not sure—she is sickening for the measles now.” ‘* Mon Dieu!” cred the mother in consternation. “Tt is nothing,” said the Sister. ‘‘We have nursed dozens of children, and brought them well through it. In a week little Marie will be about again.” But Madame Guise, unused to these light ailments, and ternbly anxious for her only child, whom she could but look upon, as separated from her, 1n the light of a martyr, was not easily reassured. She stayed with the child as long as she dared, and begged that Mr. Parker might be sent for in the morning if Marie was no better. It was late to go home; after eleven ; but nevertheless she took the lonely road past the Friar’s Keep and up Chapel Lane. The way had a fascination for her. Since she had been at Greylands’ Rest, in going home from the Nunnery in the evening, she had always chosen it. All the village had long ago been in bed. The stars were bright; the night was light and clear. Looking across over the chapel ruins, __ she could see the light of a distant vessel out at sea. Under the q hedge, in the very self-same spot where her husband and John Bent had halted that fatal night, did she now halt, the Chapel Lane close upon her left hand. ‘No, they would not have been mistaken,” ran ‘her thoughts)’ ~“ If COMIC OOOKS. EO |