The Argosy — page 157: what you’re looking at

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

Parkwater, 147 came, no other than she should be his wife. Sophia saw her ends gained ; or in a fair way to be so. She did not love Frederick Lyvett: she looked upon him as rather “soft.” He certainly was soft in regard to her. But she coveted the social position she would attain as his wife. It was a fact, proved afterwards, that he would descend to that kitchen of theirs, when the house was closed for the night, and partake of their meals, tea or supper, as the case might be. Old May and his wife never forgot their respect: they were the humblest of the humble ; and would sit at the very far corner of the kitchen when Mr. Frederick was in it, and hand him his tea—if he chose any—at a table different from theirs. Sophia felt the degradation for him, perhaps, more than he felt it for him- self. Love, as we al] know, softens everything ; anomalies bend before it ; incongruities are not seen. No doubt, at first Frederick Lyvett winced at the kitchen and its surroundings : but his love for Sophia was stronger than he was. And he did look upon her as being very APNE; ; refined and cultivated as were his sisters. Sophia had persuaded her parents to part with the worn-out old piano which had so offended her nerves the night of her return, and to hire a better—she might not want one long there, she said—and Mr. Frede- rick Lyvett, who was passionately fond of music, would lean over her, enraptured, when she used it. She played and sang very well now: a thousand times better, Fred declared, than his sisters. Sophia did play and sing well. He was not blinded there. Her voice was sweet, and she had that aptitude for music which is sure to repay its cultivation. How long this might have gone on, and what would really have been the upshot, it is impossible to say ; for Frederick Lyvett was too young to marry; neither was he thinking of it yet. It was hardly to be ex- pected that he, used to refinement at home, would continue long to be hail-fellow-well-met with the office kitchen, and his father’s servants who inhabited it. But to Sophia’s dismay and misfortune—yes, her deep, terrible misfortune—it was brought to an abrupt termination. One day Mr. Rowley, the confidential clerk, who had been in the house for five-and-twenty years, and was a white-haired old gentleman of sixty, and a strict disciplinarian, left his own desk in the front office, gathered up some papers in his hand, and proceeded up-staus to Mr. Lyvett’s room. Mr. Lyvett looked up. ‘¢ What papers are those, Rowley? Canton’s case?” ‘“No, sir. I only want to say a few words to you.” ‘SWhat about ?” asked Mr. Lyvett, in a quick tone. He was a stout man, with a pleasant eye and ready smile. His younger son must now resemble what he was in his youth. ‘ And of course, sir, you will not hint to Mr. Frederick that you obtained your information from me. It would set him against me in a way that would be unpleasant. But I regard him and Mr. James more CORNICE OOS (GO)