The Argosy — page 75: what you’re looking at

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

62 Number Twenty-five. “You are not going to church? Will you post this for me?” In a lower tone: ‘1 dare not trust it to anyone about me.” I raised my hand to receive the letter, when a longer arm than mine was stretched up from somewhere behind me and her husband’s white fingers closed on it. “My dearest, why trouble Mr. Sherratt ? Z must go to the post-office | after church,” | turned sharply and caught his eyes fixed on me with a wicked look that melted, as I gazed, into one of polite deprecation. ‘The bells be- gan to ring and they passed on, he carrying her dainty little church service with ostentatious care. ‘A most devoted husband—or Gaoler—which ?” I asked myself. Off to the woods—masses of bluish purple leafless stems and twigs— just then tipped with a warm golden brown in the distance, where the leaf buds were swelling under the bark. A walk over the hills to the rectory of an old school-fellow, afternoon service in a primitive little chapel with a congregation of nine, and back again through the deepen- ing twilight that just lasted till the distant bells of Losthaven struck on my ear. It was quite night before I reached the hotel. I could just make out clusters of shadowy forms on the Parade, against the sea. There was to be a high tide that night—always an exciting event in Losthaven. As I entered the hall, Loseby came running downstairs, a lady’s fur cloak thrown over his shoulder. ‘‘ Ah! good evening,” he said, in a most friendly manner. ‘“ Only just home ? You've had a glorious day. Done any sketching? You should come out and look at the tide. I never saw the Channel look so full. Lucky for Losthaven the wind is north, what there is of it Have acigar?” I thanked him and declined. He stopped to light his at a gas jet. ‘‘My wife is out there. She wouldn’t come in, so I have been finding a wrap for her.” He seemed to take for eranted that I was coming with him, so I did, for no other reason. We strolled up the Parade, till we came to a barrier of tubs and planks, where the asphalte was still soft. ‘This way,” he said, striding over it. ‘‘I left her sitting here—Why—where can she be? We must have passed her. Perhaps she got cold sitting so long.” Certainly no one was in sight on that end of the sea-wall, and we turned back, scanning each dark group carefully, as we passed them. I was footsore, and when we regained the hotel, left Loseby to continue his chase and made for my room. I dawdled over dress- ing, and it was nearly half an hour later when I heard shouts on the Parade, and what seemed a sudden rush of footsteps with ex- cited voices intermixed. It was too dark to see anything from my window. “Ah! the water has got over at last,” was my re- flection, till the footsteps and voices seemed to draw nearer and nearer. JI opened my door. ‘There was some commotion in the hall and on the staircase, and while I looked a little crowd appeared at the end of our corridor, moving slowly and carefully. I saw the Gomichbooksneo m