The Argosy — page 64: what you’re looking at

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

Slephante. 51 her, in a subdued, rather agitated tone, and there was silence. Steenie turned to go. ‘“ Good-night,” she said, shaking hands with him: as she left him, her eyes were so filled with tears she could scarcely see the flickering light. But when she reached the door she heard his voice: ‘‘Steenie!” he cried. And he had never called her Steenie before. It was all she could do to speak aloud, but she managed it witha struggle. ‘“‘ Yes,” she answered. ‘‘ Do you want anything ? ” Weak and ill as he was, he rose to his feét, looking so fearfully thin and pale that the mere sight of him sent a new pang through her heart. “ Don’t get up,” she faltered. ‘‘ Let me give you what you want.” “T want you,” he said. And then he caught sight of something which Baye him a heart- ‘pang too, and a passionate one. ‘“‘ Are those tears in your eyes ?” he cried. “Yes,” said Steenie, and stood before him with wet, dropped lashes, tremulous as before a judge. Almost the next moment she felt his arms clasping her. ‘‘ My poor little lamb,” he said. ‘*‘ Why are they there? Is it because ¢ “It is because I could not bear to leave you, and think you did not care !” she whispered ; and there the innocent, sorrowful voice broke, for she could say no more. That night the Rector heard his curate’s story from peat aaae to end; and while it was told, Steenie sat on alow stool at Kenneth Dart’s feet, with her quiet hand in his. When the confession was ended, there was a silence, in which the Rector bent his head thoughtfully, and the gentle hand clung to Kenneth’s with a closer, tenderer clasp. ‘¢ And you wish to take up your work again ?” said the Rector. Kenneth answered him with a silent gesture. The old man looked at Steenie. ‘‘ My dear,” he said, “ you have a tender faith in him at least; and you have promised to eek him.” “‘ Ves,” answered Steenie, in her low, clear voice. The Rector, after a moment’s thoughtful looking at the red fire, turned to them both once more: “I can trust him,” he said. ‘* The man you love is to be trusted. We will begin again.” And so they did; and the Little Shop being closed, its young mistress entered into a new existence. And she was so faithful to her loving task of brightening and purifying the life she had taken into her tender hands, that in the end its record was as fair a one as her own. CoOnniclaoaoe O SS (Cl O)