The Argosy — page 303: what you’re looking at

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

282 ‘ Sandstone Torr. 4 _. three hundred a year with him; the Squire, for Frank, had resumed the receipt of the other three. And Lizzy, the daughter, with a heap of little ones at her skirts, remained in possession of the Torr until it should be taken. She had charge to let it as soon as might be. Pitchley’s farm resumed its bustle and its sounds of every-day, happy life. The crowds that flocked to it to shake hands with Frank and welcome his wonderful resuscitation were beyond telling. Frank had sworn a solemn oath never to drink again: he never would, God help- ing him. He &mew that he never should, he whispered one day to Mr. Brandon, a great joyous light in his face as he spoke. His mother praying for him in dying, had told him that he would overcome; she had seen that he would in that last solemn hour, for the prayer had been heard, bringing her peace. He had overcome now, he said, and he would and should overcome to the end. And Mr. Brandon, reading the faith and the earnestness, felt as sure of it as Frank did. Frank kept his word. And, two years later, there he was, back at the Torr again. For Stephen had died of a severely cold winter in Canada, and his son Tom had died, but not of cold, and the Torr was Frank’s. . | Mrs. Stephen came back again, and took up her abode at her brother’s. She would enjoy the three hundred a year for life, by Stephen’s will; it would then go to her daughter Lizzy—who would want it badly enough with her flock of youngsters. Becca and Eunice turned their attention to poultry, and sent rare fowls to shows, and got prizes for them. Eunice returned long before Mrs. Stephen. She had never been out of England at all; and, finding it safe for her, put in an appearance, one winter day, at the gamekeeper’s lodge. Frank began to make alterations at the Torr as soon as he entered it, cutting down trees, and trying to render it a little less gloomy. Annet, with a calm face of sweet content, was much occupied at that time with a young man who was just getting on his legs, propelling him before her by the help of some safety reins that she called “ backstrings,” a fair child, who had the frank face and the golden curls of his father. And in all the country round about, there was not a gentleman more liked and respected than Francis Radcliffe of Sandstone Torr. JoHNNY LUDLOw. Eomicbooks.com