The Argosy — page 356: what you’re looking at

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

Court Netherlagh. 335 He smiled. A poor smile at best. Margery Upton leaned for- ward and put her hand upon his hand, that lay on his knee. ‘There 1s only one thing for it—patience. Bear quietly. Adela used to be a sweet girl; I think she has a good heart, and what evil spirit has taken possession of her I cannot conceive. I ¢hink things will work round in time, even as you could desire them.” C6 AY ! ? ‘“‘ And, for the present, I say, keep up a good heart—and dear. It is my best advice to you.” He took her hand within both his, and pressed it fervently, making no comment in words. And just then the fly pulled up in the Strand. ‘“‘T have not asked about your mother,” said Miss Upton, as he stood at the door to say farewell after getting out. ‘She is pretty well, thank you, now.” ‘And your sister? Does she get over that wretched business of Robert Dalrymple’s ?” “Of course—in a degree. ‘Time softens most things. But she will never forget him.” He shook hands finally with Miss Upton; he walked on to his house in Leadenhall Street, his step flagging, his heart weary. Entering his own private room, he found two ladies within it. Huis mother, who was seated in the most easy chair the room afforded; and his sister. Mrs. Lynn was a tall, dignified, upright woman still: her beautiful gray eyes were just like his own, her refined countenance, sickly now, bore yet its marks of unusual intellect. “Mother!” he exclaimed, in surprise. ‘‘ How glad I am to see you !” “TI drove up to the Bank upon a little matter of business, and came on to see you after it was transacted,” she explained, as he kissed her. ‘Tt is unusual to find you out at this time of day, Francis; but the clerks thought you would be in soon, and I waited. I am glad of the rest; the journey has so tired me.” “Why will you not let me do your matters of business for you, mother ?” he tenderly asked, as he busied himself to get a glass of wine for her and some biscuits. ‘““ Because as long as I caz do things for myself, I like to do them,” she answered, ‘‘and my old-fashioned carriage is an easy one. I do not care to become quite the incapable old woman before the necessity for it sets inevitably in. And now, how is it with yourself, Francis ? Your brow wore a troubled look as you entered.” Never did Francis Grubb smile a more genial smile than now. Not even to his mother would he willingly show his care. “It is quite well with me,” he laughed ; “well and flourishing. Drink your Wine, mother dear.” “Your wife ?” whispered Mrs. Lynn in a tone of doubt—of pain. “Is she—more friendly ?” COMIC OOO SS} (C(O) > =