The Argosy — page 220: what you’re looking at

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

A Mystery. 2b8 white marble, aromatic shrubs encircling it within ornamental railings, and an inscription on it to her who lay beneath: “ Maria, the beloved wife of John Delorane.” Ellin lingered on through the frosts of winter. Except that she grew thinner and weaker and her cheeks brighter, there really did not seem to be much the matter. Darbyshire saw her every day, other medical men occasionally, but they could not save her. When the snowdrops were peeping from the ground, and the violets nestled in their mossy shelters, and the trees and hedges began to show signs of budding, tokens of the renewal of life after the death of winter, Ellin passed away to that other life, where there is no death and the flowers bloom for ever. And another inscription was added to the white tombstone in the churchyard : “Ellin Maria, the only child of John and Maria Delorane.” ‘You should have seen St. George at the funeral,” said Tom Coney to us, as we turned aside after church one hot summer’s day to look at the new name on the grave, for we were away from Crabb Cot when she died. “His face was green; yes, green—hold your tongue, Johnny !—green, not yellow; and his eyes had the queerest look. You were right, Todhetley ; you used to say, you know, that St. George was wild after poor Ellin.” “Positive of it,” affirmed Tod. “And he can’t bear the place now she’s gone out of it,” continued Tom Coney. ‘ Report says that he means to throw up his post and _his prospects, and run away for good.” “Not likely,” dissented Tod, tossing his head. ‘A strong man like St. George does not die of love now-a-days, or put himself out of good things, either. You have been reading romances, Coney.” But Tom Coney was right. When the summer was on the wane St. George bade a final adieu to Timberdale. And if it was his love for Ellin, or her death, that drove him away, he made no mention of it. He told Timberdale that he was growing tired of work and meant to travel. As he had a good income, Timberdale agreed that it was only natural he should grow tired of work and want to travel. Sohe said adieu, and departed: and Mr. Delorane speedily engaged another head clerk in his place, who was to become his partner later. St. George wrote to Mr. Delorane from Jamaica, to which place he steamed first, to take a look at his cousins. The letter contained a few words about William Brook. St. George had been instituting inquiries, and he said that, by what he could learn, it was certainly William Brook who was drowned in Kingston harbour the day before he ought to have sailed for England in the Dart. He, St. George, felt perfectly assured of this fact, and also that if any man had sailed in the Idalia under Brook’s name, it must have been an impostor who had nefariously substituted himself. St. George added that he was CONMMICMOOOKS.Cc©