The Argosy — page 251: what you’re looking at

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

232 Mrs. Carr’s Companion. could never grow tired of hearing, though she knew it all very well before. What a change had been wrought in a few brief, blessed moments, while the organ still pealed on! Only now the notes swelled out into a sweet strain of triumph, giving laughter for tears, and joy for bitterness. ‘* And you say I never made you so happy as when you found me miserable ?” said Olive, reproachfully. ‘“ Indeed, no. As someone says somewhere : ‘Give smiles to those who love you less, But give your tears to me,’ That is when you must shed them. Ah, Olive! what a sacrifice you are going to make forme! ‘To go into exile! To leave home and friends for my sake!” - "No, John. Wherever you are will be home to me now.” For whatever it might cost her she knew by this time that no sacrifice could ever be one-hundredth part so painful as that final handclasp which had seemed to tear her very heart-strings when she thought she had bidden her old playmate good-bye for ever! Thorold could not thank her as he would have liked to do. It was a dreadfully public place. ‘The Dean might have popped out of his house upon them at any moment; he was always prowling about the ruins; or one of the old canons, whose courting days were long ago over, or a stray tourist, to say nothing of Mrs. Warburton, or some other St. Brenda gossip. But as they strolled on slowly side by side, they could exchange looks—and they did; and hand-clasps —and they did; right under the dilapidated noses of the weather- beaten corbels, looking down on them with stony, impassive faces. ‘My mother must not be excited, or she will lose her night’s rest; we will tell no one to-night,” said Olive, hugging herself in the consciousness of her happy secret. ‘‘ Ah! I see you want one more peaceful evening to yourself before the regrets, and warnings, and condolences begin. But surely I may speak to the Archdeacon ?” ‘Not till the very last thing after we are all gone upstairs.” ‘‘And I must come the very first thing in the morning to make sure you have not changed your mind? My train goes at eleven ; we have so little time together !” ‘¢ And so much to say! Come as early as you like—I am always down by eight.” It was very little after that hour when Mr. Thorold was ushered into the familiar room opening on to the conservatory, where stood a slender figure, with head bent down, over the blossoms which apparently engrossed her, Fortunately there were only the flowers looking on to witness how he greeted it. As it was, a fuschia near seemed to droop its graceful bells still lower, while some ruby camelia-blossoms which had only just EORMIE NNO KS (E(@)