The Argosy — page 199: what you’re looking at

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

182 Winifred Power. and the Prussians were marching upon Paris. ‘There was a sauve- qui-peut among the foreigners, and Mrs. Chandos-Fane wrote to her daughter in hot haste to join her at Boulogne. Winifred in her heart would rather have remained where she was. To her, not foreseeing what was to happen, the prospect of the siege held forth no terrors. Moreover, she loved Paris and felt all the inexplicable fascination which France, in her darkest as in her brightest days, can cast upon the minds of men. It was pain, to her, to quit in such an hour the great city where she had dwelt so long. But Mrs. Fane’s letter was imperative. ‘That lady possessed one of those indefinite natures with which it is impossible to deal. On the surface as airy as gossamer, as light as the froth of the sea, she had a clinging tenacity of purpose which was not to be repressed. Her present letter to Winifred was that of a lonely and loving mother. ‘‘I have but you in the world, my child,” she wrote, in a delicate, flowing hand. ‘Since the death of your dear step-father, since my dear little children, one after another (your half-brothers and sisters, love) were taken from me, my life has been desolate. I say this in no reproachful spirit, You have your art (as you call it) ; and you make some money by it; naturally you have slipped into the habit of being absorbed by it. But you must sometimes think of your poor mamma. I am sure I am not exacting. You generally have your own way, darling; and I think I am always indulgent. But France is no place at present for a young girl. No, not even for my wise Winifred. .... who ¢hznks herself so wise ! Iam going to England, and I should like you to come with me.’ Some mothers might say they veguzred it: but I only say I should like it. My Winifred, after a little reflection, will perhaps see that the day may come when she will not be sorry she has sometimes done something to please her loving *¢ MAMSIE. “PS. I have met Sir John Hatherley here, and with him the three ladies whom he has so generously received into his home. He is very nice. Much nicer than his sister, 7 think. But of course that is only my opinion. He tells me of a charming cottage to let close by his own place. I should like to take it. But mothers have to consult their daughters nowadays.” Winifred read this epistle with some perplexity and a dim sense of pain. Her sensitive conscience made her very quick to blame her- self and very much alive to reproach. She quite seriously asked herself if she had ever been wanting in love or respect to her mother? Yet if she had not, what did Mrs. Fane’s insinuations mean? There came a time of riper experience, when she learnt that the gist of her mother’s letters had to be sought in their postscripts. But she was too young and too generous to understand this yet ; and she felt vaguely dissatisfied with herself the whole day. The notion of disregarding her mother’s wishes, when so plainly CORNICE OOO K<Sneolng)