The Argosy — page 49: what you’re looking at

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

36 A Girl's Folly. But Thomas neither spoke nor moved. The voice that had no- thing but tender words for her was silenced now ; the heart she had so grieved might never beat in joy or sorrow again. No person had seen or spoken with him after quitting her the pre- vious night, save the dressmaker, little industrious Miss Ford. She had answered his knock herself, she related, and he put the note into her hands, saying Miss Reece had asked him to leave it in passing. ‘‘ What a thick mist it is that has come on,” he remarked to her in his pleasant, chatty way. ‘‘ Ay, it is indeed, sir,” she answered, and shut her door as he walked away. For many weeks Alison Reece lay ill with brain fever, hovering between life and death. Some people said it was the shock that made her ill and took her senses away ; others thought she must have loved the poor young man to distraction; no one, save her mother, knew it was the memory of her last interview with him, and the scheming to send him on the route that led to his accident, that had well-nigh killed her. But the young are strong in their tenacity of life, and she grew better by slow degrees. One warm April afternoon, when the winter months had given place tospring, Alison, leaning onthe arm of her mother, went to sit in the porch. She was very feeble yet. It was the first time she had sat there since that memorable evening with her ill-fated lover. There she remained, thinking and dreaming. They could not persuade her to come in, so wrapped her in a warm shawl. Sunset came on; and was almost as beautiful, curious, perhaps, that it should be so, as the one he and she had watched together more than six months before. The brilliant beams shone like molten gold in the glowing west, the blue sky around was flecked with pink and amethyst. Alison’s eyes were fixed on the lovely scene with an enraptured gaze, her lips slightly parting with emotion. ‘‘ Alison, what are you thinking of?” “Of hzm, mother. Of his happiness. He is Z:vzmg in all that glorious beauty. I think there must have been an unconscious pre- vision in his mind, by what he said that evening as we watched it, that he should soon be there. Oh, mother, I wish I was going to him ! I wish I could be with him to-morrow !” The mother paused; she felt inclined to say something, but feared the agitation it might cause. “Well, well, child, you are getting better,” she presently answered. * Ves, I do get better,” sighed the girl. “ I suppose it pleased God that I should.” ‘Time soothes all things, Alison. In time you will be strong again, and able to fulfil life’s various duties with a zest. Trials are good—oh so good!—for the soul. But for meeting with them, we might never learn the way to heaven.” Alison did not answer. Her feeble hands were clasped in silent prayer, her face was lifted to the glories of the evening sky. ECORMIEOOOKS.E© im