The Argosy — page 188: what you’re looking at

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

Mrs. Raven’s Tempiaivon. 171 to air your fancy years ago, you would have abandoned it long ago; that’s my opinion. I suppose ventilation is as necessary for people’s minds as for their houses. And considering how hard it is to re- concile them to it in the latter, I expect they keep their former ina terribly stuffy state.” “IT suppose I had better make a full confession while I am about it,’ she went on ina strange low tone; which, to any ear less obtuse than her son’s, would have conveyed the idea of caressing, almost cringing, entreaty. ‘‘ All these years, especially when I felt dis- appointed by Frank’s strong, restless, active boyishness, I have allowed my imagination to dwell on that (possibly) lost child of my own. I always picture it a girl You see, in my own mind, I could picture it anything I liked, and it was easier to dream of a daughter as my sympathising companion in all my lonely walks and works.” “Tt is a great pity you never had a daughter of your own, mother,” said Leonard. ; | “TJ have had a very solitary life,” cried Mrs. Raven, with a sudden passion which startled even Leonard, while she went on with what seemed strangely like self-vindication against some invisible accuser. “J believe I should have been quite a different creature had I lived the crowded, sunshiny life of most women. ‘They are not good or happy thoughts which come by brooding! And now,” she added after a moment’s pause, and with a sudden return to her ordinary manner, ‘‘my life is lonelier than ever. Though your father spent so much time in the open air, and though Frank had so little in common with me, yet their absence leaves a great blank. I have made up my mind that Frank must be got home as quickly as possible, and brought to a better understanding with us. But it is not likely he will ever settle down here ; he will only come and go. And in these silent days I am getting haunted by the idea of this daughter I have so long fancied I might have had.” Leonard could not quite understand his mother. “Do not check me for speaking out this fresh folly, Leonard, when you have just blamed me for concealing another. I must have some sort of companionship; some young girl here who will love me.” ‘“What do you want to do?” Leonard inquired, rather unsym- pathetically. ‘“T am thinking of advertising for a lady companion,” she said, rising from her chair, and bending over a vase of flowers on a stand, “but I would not do sucha thing without consulting you.” “Why not?” asked Leonard. ‘What right have I to interfere in your wishes ?” “You will have to tolerate her in the family,” said his mother. ‘She must sit at table with us. It will be a great boon to me if you can endure it, and if I find a person who suits me, we shall be well accustomed to each other by the time I have to leave here and go to cConniclbooolks (SO)