The Argosy — page 161: what you’re looking at

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

EDITH FALCONER. By J. M. Waarton, AUTHOR oF “ MR. SMITH,” ‘* SiR CEcIL's RIVAL,” &c. Xe 7 USSELL, [ve seen my fate!” exclaimed the junior of two young men, who were sauntering up the broad staircase of the White Lion, the principal hotel in the pretty watering-place of Limpetville. ‘‘ Russell, ’'ve seen my fate !” he repeated. ‘Have you? I thought the days of necromancy and divination and all the rest of it were over; but that only proves my ignorance. Well, is it anything very tragical ? ” ‘““Nonsense! I mean a woman.” “Of course! That goes without saying. A woman has been at the bottom of every piece of mischief since Eve plucked the apple in Eden.” ‘‘ Listen, instead of talking nonsense, and you shall hear all. I’ve seen the woman I mean to marry.” ‘‘T congratulate her already.” ‘She is in this very house,” continued Percival Hunt, happily oblivious of the tone of satire in his companion’s replies. ‘‘I hope she will come to the table d’hote dinner—as indeed she must if she wishes to get anything decent to eat—and then you will have an opportunity of seeing her.” ‘“But you have not yet told me who she is. What’s her name ? ” ‘“T don’t know. I merely saw her arrive, and straightway laid my heart at her feet.” ‘‘T suppose she is not alone, like the famous lady who made the pedestrian tour of Jreland. Who else came?” ‘‘A fussy old gentleman, no doubt her father; a helpless maid, and a little yelping cur of a dog; and she looked after everybody and smiled upon everybody and managed everybody.” At that moment their roads divided, Russell having to ascend to a higher story ; so for the present the two young men parted company. But they had spent so long a time in talking over the new beauty that they found themselves a few minutes late at dinner; and then even, instead of taking his soup, Percival Hunt was occupied in casting keen glances up and down the long table in search of his divinity. At last, after craning his neck at excruciating angles to peer round obstructing pyramids of plants or interceptive dishes of grapes, he gave a low cry of exultation. “There she is! A few places down to the left hand. Wait a moment, and she will lean forward, when you can gets) piryse-of. hor.”