The Argosy — page 77: what you’re looking at

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

64 All Souls’ Eve. “YT daresay I shall. And not be sorry, either. Anything fora quiet life. You might have purchased a substitute defore the war broke out, but none shall say that F rancis Latange shirked his duty now.” “ The grief will kill me,” wailed Madame. ‘Oh no, it won’t,” returned Francis. “ You and Mam’selle Anastasie will just go on as much alive as ever, looking after the eggs, and blowing up the servants.” Madame melted into tears. ‘Francis, you are ungrateful. Won't you reflect that you are very dear to me: the day-star of my life, the apple of my eye?” ‘Well, mother, you have taken the wrong any to show it; treating me as a child, and magging the peace 4 of me.’ “T qill get you a substitute, my son,” she passionately broke forth. “<Or, if you must go to the war, you shall have your commission.” ‘‘Tisten, mother,” he answered. ‘ You have suffered my name to stand enrolled, these many weeks, as one of the ranks, and as such I will serve. Do you fear lam acoward? Would I like the reproach, of being one, cast at me?” The village all turned out to see the recruits depart ; there was not a dry eye in it. Francis Latange went with the rest, and his mother flung herself down on her knees in the mud of the road, to pray the Virgin for his safe return. Mam’selle Anastasie was behind her, also on her knees, telling her beads. This was nothing extraordinary for ally te mo- ment of painful emotion at St. Elo Francis had stolen a meeting with Clara Fitzgerald the evening be- fore. He had not seen much of her lately ; for Clara had refused to meet him in opposition to his mother. But now that he was going away, perhaps for ever, she was as anxious as he fora parting inter- view. She had learnt to love him deeply, passionately; and when the last moment of farewell came, her anguish rose in convulsive sobs. “Do not grieve so, Clara,” he whispered, fondly laying her head upon his shoulder. ‘I may be back sooner than you think. If the war should abruptly end, as many prophesy it will, they may then send a substitute for me, and I will come home. But rest assured of one | thing, Clara: that when I do come, be it sooner or later, it shall be to win you for my wife. God protect you, my love, for ever and for ever.” But the war did not come to an end, and the months dragged them- selves slowly on. A letter now and then found its way from Francis to his father, and to Clara Fitzgerald. ‘These letters gave the leading incidents in the progress of the allied armies, the landing in the ~ Crimea, the battle of the Alma, and the long and terrible siege of Sebastopol. The summer of 1855 came round, and the troops were still dcfore Sebastopol, not in it. comicbooks.com