The Argosy — page 260: what you’re looking at

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

Rome eee ae Ks Gr. O. Si: Yo, APRIL, 17887. eOURL NEPREREEI GH. BY MRS. HENRY WOOD, AUTHOR OF * EAST LYNNE,” KO Crea PT Perk 7X, A COSTLY MANIA. HE residence of Mrs. Lynn at Blackheath was a substantial, old- fashioned, roomy house on the heath, standing alone within a high wall surrounded by trees. And to this house, on the Monday morning, went her son, Francis Grubb, carrying with him his burden of ill news. The same fatal news which the old serving-man, Reuben, had already taken to Moat Grange. In the morning-room sat Mary Lynn, glancing over a short letter she had just written. She started up in what looked like alarm when her brother entered. “Oh, Francis!” she exclaimed, a hectic colour flushing her face, “what have you come to-day for—now? Is it to bring me ill news ?” “Why do you imagine that?” he asked, rather struck with her words—and her looks. - ‘‘Can’t a business man come out to pay a morning visit, Mary, without bringing ill news with him? My wife and the baby are going on well, if you are thinking of them.” He spoke in a half-jesting tone, making light of it at first. It was not usual with him to leave the City at this early hour. Mary glanced at the open letter on the table. She wore a cool muslin dress of a pinkish colour, and was looking altogether fresh and fair and pure— but sad. ‘How is mamma?” he asked. “Not at all well; she is keeping her room to-day,” said Mary. Mr. Grubb, standing so near, could not fail to see that the letter was written to Robert Dalrymple. The reader may like to see its contents. “My DEAR RoBertT,—Considering that you and I ceased to cor- respond some years ago, you will be surprised at my writing to you. I have no doubt all proper-minded old ladies, including my mother, would shake their heads at me. Will you just drop me one line in VOL, XXXL R conniclooolks (C(O) *