The Argosy — page 193: what you’re looking at

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

176 The Mysteries of Heron Dyke. told her she was going to send one of the maids down to sit up with Betsy, and was passing onwards, when the anxious, appealing look | in the girl’s wan face arrested her. | ; ‘Did you wish to ask anything, Susan?” . ‘‘Oh, ma’am, if I might !—if I might!” “ Certainly you may. What is it?” } ‘‘T want to find out where they took Katherine to,” spoke the girl in an urgent whisper. ‘‘ Perhaps you know, ma’am ; you are the mistress ; and whether she is alive or dead.” ‘My poor Susan, I know no more about it than you do. I wish I did!” Susan clasped her hands. ‘‘I wonder how much longer we shall have to wait?” ‘‘Tt may be, Susan, that we shall never know. It may be in- tended that we shall not know.” Susan shook her head. “I think it will all be known by-and-by, ma’am. Perhaps I shall be the one to find it out. I often wake up in the night and hear Katherine calling to me, only I can’t tell where the voice comes from. I hear it oftenest in the larch plantation at the back of the Hall when the moon is at the full. But when I try to follow her voice I get bewildered with the strange fancies that - seem to be dancing and whirling in my head; and sometimes I hear a laugh close behind me, and then I hurry off home and go to bed and repeat hymns one after another till I get to sleep.” ‘There, run home now, Susan ; your mother is waiting for you,” interposed Miss Kettle with authority—for it was always best to cut off promptly these dreamy visions of Susan. Ever obedient, Susan hastened towards the Leaning Gate, the far- away, spiritual expression dying out of her eyes. The others walked on, Maria with her gaze on the ground. ‘Look opposite, Maria. ‘There is some one you know.” Maria looked across the road, and saw Philip Cleeve, who ap- peared to be just as much absorbed as they were, his head bent in © deep thought. He looked like Philip grown twenty years older— Philip without his elastic tread, his quick walk, his cheerful smile and greeting for everyone whom he knew. Not until he had nearly passed did he perceive Miss Winter and Maria. Happening to raise his eyes, he started, hesitated, flushed to the roots of his hair, lifted his hat, and hurried on. Maria, too, flushed painfully, and a grieved look came into her eyes as she gravely acknowledged Philip's salutation, and walked on by Miss Winter’s side. | ‘You and Philip have not quarrelled, I hope, Maria?” ‘‘ Quarrelled—-no,” answered Maria with a sigh. ‘* But he does not come to the Vicarage now ; papa has forbidden it.” “He looks changed somehow.” ‘‘So I think. He spends, I believe, too much time in the billiard- Gomichbooks:.com