The Argosy — page 29: what you’re looking at

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

15 Winifred Power. C HAP The Rw bbb THE WILL UPpsTaAiRS, in a warm, comfortable, remote room, where the bustle and stir of the household’could not reach, Mr. Hatherley spent his days. ‘They were monotonous, drowsy days, saddened by weakness and the sense of an imminent end. ‘The brewer had never possessed many mental resources: never had been a reading man, or made his son’s pretensions to culture. Now, as the gloom of weakness and of age gathered round his spirit, he had but one occupation. ‘That was, to go over and over again in memory the details of long past business operations. His mind was very clear, but his vivid interest in present things as a rule had vanished. Generally silent and a little morose, rather than patient and resigned, he would flash out at intervals into energy or anger, And his intelligence on these occasions was still so keen, his views so decided, his will so swift and strong, that the whole house- hold shrank from rousing the slumbering lion. His restless irrita- bility and proportional sharpness of insight kept his children and servants on thorns, for the lightest word sufficed to annoy, and the faintest indication to enlighten him. Late one afternoon he sat at his usual place by the fire, the landscape still dimly visible through the unshuttered windows. ‘The reflection of the blaze on walls and furniture became ruddier by con- trast with the shadows which it could only partially chase. The > servant on bringing the lamp had been bidden to take it away again. Silently, almost humbly, he obeyed, for the day had been one of Mr. Hatherley’s worst ; and now he was supposed to have sunk into the semi-stupor which generally followed his outbursts of excitement. He had a rugged, stern old face—the set face of a man who had known few although strong emotions and responded to fewer ideas. But now on the sunken cold lips a softer expression than usual dwelt. Once or twice the wrinkled hands trembled, and an open letter which they held rustled as in answer to some quiver of the aged frame. ‘All in the dark, father?” exclaimed Mary, entering suddenly. ‘¢ How careless of Jacobs!” And she rang the bell. The old man did not seek to justify Jacobs, or to answer. He still seemed lost in thought. Mary glanced at him rather im- patiently, and no quick instinct of love warned her of the subtle change in his air. Her mind was, as always, full of her own affairs. Earlier in the day she had almost decided to appeal to him for money ; but his mood had been ungracious, and her courage failed. When the lights were brought in, he roused himself a little, and, lifting his eyes, fixed them on his daughter with a singular, wistful look, almost of tenderness. She was startlked—even shivered with a Gomicbooksneo