The Argosy — page 333: what you’re looking at

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

Parkwater. 319 be being tied then, and he arrive just too late. As to running, that was beyond him: it was up-hill, and he was a fat mam He espied a horse fastened to the palings of a small house close to the egress: a butcher’s boy and his tray had just jumped off it; he was taking the station-masters wife, who lived there, some steak for their dinner. Without consideration, Mr. Lyvett unhooked the bridle, mounted on the horse, and urged him to a gallop. The dismayed boy, when he had recovered his astonishment, started in the wake, hallooing, ‘Stop thief!” with all his stentorian lungs, which only made the horse fly the faster. About half-way to the church the rider came upon Mr. Castle- rosse, sitting philosophically on the top of a milestone by the roadside. “Well?” cried Mr. Lyvett, pulling up, as speedily as the pace he was going would allow. “Well it is, I think,” grunted Mr. Castlerosse. ‘“‘ Why couldn’t you come before?” “Am I in time?” | ‘“No, you are not. They are married anc gone. You couldnt expect to be.” “ Are they really married?” gasped Mr. Lyvett, his arms dropping powerless with the news. ‘They are. I stood in the church and saw it done. I strove to prevent it, but was not allowed. J was not his father.” Mr. Lyvett slowly descended from the horse. To encounter the panting and abusive butcher-boy, who protested the policeman was a-coming up with the ’ancuffs. A short explanation and another golden piece settled the lad, and sent him riding off in wild glee. ‘“‘You say they are gone. Where?” “In that train which I suppose you got out of,” was poor Mr. Castle- rosse’s testy reply, as he pointed to the smoking carriages whirling along in the distance. ‘A more determined, obstinate, pig-headed man than your son has shown himself this day, I never saw. It will come home to him, as sure as his name’s Fred Lyvett.” ‘ As he has made his bed, so he must lie on it,” returned Mr. Lyvett, striving to make light of his bitter grief. But not in their worst antici- pations could he and Mr. Castlerosse suspect how very hard that bed was to be. And meanwhile Frederick Lyvett and his bride were steaming gaily away, having won their stolen march. (Zo be continued.) CONNEC OOO a) SS (CO) “we as TRnwws i ae =. Gully. . ww Ow a e 8 ee CC Ce