The Argosy — page 257: what you’re looking at

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

240 Tom Conlan’s Tryste. day: he never remained very long, not more than a minute or two, and continued tc be invisible to others. The boatman declared he had rowed him across Moross Ferry on Sunday evening, and had watched him climb the mountain road, and disappear over the crest of the hill; but there all trace of him was lost, and enquiry was alike in vain. On Saturday, however, a rapid thaw set in, and in a lonely part of the road where the snow had drifted, Tom’s body was found. Whether he had succumbed to sudden illness, or feeling weary had sat down to rest and been overtaken with ‘drowsiness, would never now be known. He had a decent wake and funeral, and was buried in Massmount with much keening, and cry of plover, and clanging of the bell, and it was hoped that his poor soul would now have rest. But Mary pined away. Still in the glow of the evening fireside, in the byre, and in the field, he came to her, and to her only. She put on her cloak one day, and went to consult his reverence, Father Dan. ‘* Does the appearance-look angrily at you, my poor girl?” asked the good priest, when he had listened attentively to her story. ‘Na, na, yer reverence, Tom couldna look angry at me, but whiles he looks dull like, an’ whiles in a troubled way.” ‘‘ There’s something on his mind that’s keeping him from his rest, Mary: it might be that it’s the promise he made you that’s troubling him. Ifyou take my advice you'll release him from histroth. Here, take this book with a morsel of the blessed bread wrapped in the cover, and the next time you see him, hold the book out to him, and ask him to tell you what’s on his mind. If he catches hold of the book he’ll speak ; but anyway you will see him no more.” Mary took Father Dan’s advice. The next time Tom appeared, she held out the book, and said, ‘‘ Tom, dear, for the love of God tell me what’s keeping you frae your rest ? ” The spectre moved slowly backwards while she continued to hold out the book, and his eyes were fixed anxiously upon her face. “You couldna keep the promise, Tom, dear,” she faltered, tremb- ling with agitation. ‘‘I wish you could get to your rest! I release you frae your troth.” As she said the words a smile seémed to brighten Tom’s face, and | while she gazed upon him, the appearance gradually faded, and was” seen no more. But Mary drooped and pined, and died within the year. There came a day in bleak November, when the Tamney women meeting one another, asked, ‘‘Have you heard that Mrs. McGarvey’s Mary has just got to her rest ?” ‘‘Ay, neighbour: God send she has made a gude change the day! 1? « comicbooks.co Y