The Argosy — page 231: what you’re looking at

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

An Every-Day Story. 219 in the absence of a pre-occupied mind—she called her daughter to come to her: papa had nursed her long enough. He carried his child across the rug, and put her on her mother’s knee. Rosalie watched it all. She saw her hold it in her arms where his had been, and press her lips on the brow still warm with his kisses. Alas! the child was hers —she had the right to do all this. Mrs. Linden rose to end her visit. Bertram Payne went out with her to see her as far as the gate. The sun was shining. The hour of brief delirium was over: it had seemed like delirium to Rosalie. Whatever their inward feelings might be, they must be hidden from the world and from each other. The phantom of the elderly and precise James Linden ; the spectre of the fussy, showy woman in the magnificent lounging-chair, rose between them, forbidding any reference to the past, confining speech to reason and reality. “Shall I see you again?” asked Mr. Payne. “T fear not. The architect is to meet me presently: he may be already at the hotel. And then I leave again.” ‘‘Good-bye, Mrs. Linden.” ‘‘ Good-bye, Bertram.” Their hands met. Once more his glance rested on her pale, perfect face ; once more her look was lifted to his beautiful eyes in a mute farewell. Then the hands unclasped, and they parted, to meet never more, in all probability, in this short-sighted world. For their paths in it lay wide apart. Hers in the gay and bustling area of what is called town life; his in his secluded home in the remote country district of Hayford. There are more aching hearts, more lives marred by mistakes and disappointments than some of us think for. But we see them not. ecomniclooolkks _ (CO) -S __)