The Argosy — page 47: what you’re looking at

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

34 A Girl’s Folly. floods of a golden glowing light, while the songs of thrushes and larks broke out from every hedge and coppice. ‘‘We must make the damson jam to-day,” observed Mrs. Reece to her, as they rose from breakfast. ‘‘ And if you would only wash up these breakfast things, Alison, while Patty goes about her other work, I should soon have the kitchen table clear and might begin it.” “Oh, very well,” answered the girl, cheerfully. For she had been taking herself to task for her past behaviour, and meant to turn over a new leaf. ‘‘ You shall have the table clear directly, mother.” She was busy in the kitchen, when she heard her mother open the front door and some one come in. ‘It is that chattering Mrs. Bennett !” thought she, as she dried the teaspoons. ‘* Alison ! come here,” called her mother, in a quick voice. She went to the parlour just as she was: her sleeves turned back at the wrists, a large brown-holland apron on. Very pretty she looked with it all. But it was not Mrs. Bennett who sat with her mother; it was a venerable, white-haired old gentleman — Mr. Watkyn the elder. ‘T am come toask about Thomas,” said he. ‘‘I believe he came here last night, Miss Alison: at what time did he leave you?” A prevision struck her, with a sort of terror, that something was wrong. ‘* He left quite early,” she faltered. ‘‘ Well, he has never come home.” ‘‘Not come home!” she said, with a whitening face. “T sat up till one o’clock, and then I thought the mist must have kept him, that he had stayed at some friend’s house; I knew not what to think; and that he would be home the first thing this morning. But we have not seen him, and I cannot hear of him.” Mrs. Reece was impressed with the frightened, guilty look that Alison could not keep out of her countenance, and began to feel uneasy. ‘‘Cannot you tell what time it was when he left you?” she demanded, sternly. “Tt was before dusk; it was just after sunset, before the mist came on. It must have been near seven o’clock.” ‘Which road did he take?” pursued Mrs. Reece. And very re- luctantly Alison answered, for she foresaw it would bring on further questioning. “The long way—round by the hill.” “ Round by the hill!” echoed Mr. Watkyn, in alarmed surprise. ‘Why did he take that way?” Alison flushed and paled alternately : her lips were trembling. The fear creeping upon her was—that he and young Vavasour had met and quarrelled. Perhaps fought—and injured one another fatally. In these dread moments of suspense the mind is apt to conjure up far-fetched and unlikely thoughts. ‘‘T asked him to go round that way,” she replied, in a timid tone; I wanted him to leave a note for me at the dressmaker’s.” ECORNIEOOOKS.E© im