The Argosy — page 202: what you’re looking at

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

Mrs. Raven’s Temptation. 185 sake of his ignorant and superstitious flock, and send him to deliver the message she was carrying. Near the church workmen were lingering. There was asort of shy pathos in their faces as they touched their hats to her—for they were employed on her dead husband’s monument. The Pitchfork was a very homely hostelry, standing behind a row of polled trees on the edge of Raven Green. Its hostess kept cows, and thought a great deal more of them than of her bar. It was but a mild sort of dissipation that went on inside the Pitchfork, or on the heavy seat outside its door; nevertheless, it was much and justly dreaded by village matrons, and had been steadily dis- countenanced by the late Squire and the Vicar. Therefore the hearts of both Mr. and Mrs. Worsfold failed them when they saw Mrs. Raven making straight for their porch. ‘Good evening,” she said, coldly; and waited while they respect- fully returned the salutation. ‘‘I.am given to understand you have taken in a lodger who is a kind of fortune-teller. My servants are speaking of her already. You should discourage the presence of such a person on your premises, Worsfold; my son, as you may know, would not like it. I hope you will send her away before the matter reaches his ears.” ‘She doesn’t profess to tell fortunes,” said Worsfold in eager apology. ‘‘It was only some of my missis’s nonsense, wanting to hear things as is better hid. I’ll do anything you think right, ma’am : it stands to reason we should consider the Squire’s pleasure first of all. But it'll seem queer-like to have to tell the creature to go for doing what we asked her to do.” “There is no need to trouble yourself, good man,” interposed the clear hard voice of somebody who was descending the stairs. ‘‘The ‘creature’ is already going: and she is now about to pay you.” With the last words the stranger stood before Mrs. Raven. She was a tall woman, with a fine, strongly-featured face, covered with minute wrinkles, which gave her an appearance of old age inconsistent with her upright figure and vigorous spirit. She was handsomely dressed, without any sign of gaudiness or tawdriness, and yet her _ garments, like herself, lacked the something which stamps the lady, or even the well-bred, respectable woman. There was a snapping flash in her black eyes ; her full lips were straight and tightly drawn ; and she carried a small handbag, all the luggage she had brought to the Pitchfork. | Advancing to the counter, she threw down a sovereign and asked for change, which Mrs. Worsfold tremblingly counted out. She entirely ignored Mrs. Raven’s existence, though that lady felt that the woman was thoroughly alive to her presence. What strong, | masculine hands she had, white and soft, as though with idleness! Mrs. Raven shrank from her in a dread not definable. She shuddered to remember that it was a hidden interest—a personal fear—which had drawn her here, into some sort of relation with this woman. CoOnniclooolks (S(O)