The Argosy — page 289: what you’re looking at

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

270 Mr. Landon. “Sir George’s praise 1s enough to make one easy and thankful,” said he. ““She seems so happy,” said Mrs. Middleton. ‘And I thought she wasa child still,” sighed he. ‘Why, how old zs she, mamma?” ‘Well, she was eighteen last birthday, and she is a clever girl, with excellent sense. I was only nineteen when you thought me old enough to be a wife, my dear.” ‘Yes, but then you were not my own child whom I had known as a baby only the day before; you flashed on me all at once as an adorable young lady.” ‘And that is how our Mabel has flashed on Mr. Landon. But oh! my dear Jack, he is coming here to-morrow !” ‘Of course he is,” said the Reverend Jack, thoughtless of the state of the larder, or the price of lamb; ‘“‘and quite right too.” “ But it zs so difficult to receive a guest like that, in our little way, Why, even the dinners ‘i Now Mrs. Middleton was a very sensible woman, but, being a woman, she could not help (and she was quite right) troubling her- self about these things. But when her husband said their part was simply to do the best they could, and not pretend to be better than they were, she sincerely agreed with him. “Only,” she added, “‘one does like—and there’s no pretence in ¢hat —to be seen at one’s best and not at one’s worst. Do you remember the only time Lady Eversham ever called here, was the only time the white hen ever walked into the drawing-room! ‘That was not being seen at one’s best, certainly.” And she laughed at the recollection, while her husband patted her cheek as fondly as he had some twenty years before, when he had consoled the distressed young housekeeper for the white hen’s entrée. ta vA HE came, saw, and conquered. Everybody was delighted with him— except Mr. Harvey. And who was he? He was the curate, a sensible man of about thirty, of good family and good expectations, who was only acting as curate until an excellent family living fell vacant, and who thought Mabel Middleton the sweetest, dearest, prettiest, and best little angel that any man, be he who he may, need ever wish to have as a wife. Mr. Harvey did not like him. Mr. Landon was tall and good-looking, with a bright pleasant face, almost boyish in its expression of fresh good humour; agree- able manners; sound and sensible in conversation, quite the gentle- man, and devoted to Mabel, And yet Mr. Harvey did not like him. Why? Was it jealousy? No—he told himself that it was zof CONNIE ACO KS (EO)