The Argosy — page 57: what you’re looking at

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

44 The Cruse of the Reserve Squadron. future. Only a few hours ago, Broadley had received an assurance of sufficient good fortune for one day: it need not be heightened, it should not be marred. I was not curious as to the unseen and un- known. ‘The lines of my life were cast. A road lay straight ahead that must be trodden, and the end is the same for all. The “ un- certainties” of the future, so full of charm to the hopeful and the strong, for me were over for ever; and the wayside chances and changes that come to each in their times and seasons—I did not think to find these recorded in any crystal. Even if they were, I would rather not know them. Mr. Jago declared that he had /zs fortune at his fingers’ ends, and needed no interpreter thereof. He could even prompt the wizard if he found him wandering out of the beaten track. So we did not enter the rose-tinted passage, but turned and left the fair behind us. ‘The road ended—or began—in a square and a café brilliantly lighted and thronged with people. In we went; sat amidst the blazing lights, and listened to the rush and roar of voices ; watched the animated faces, the dark, flashing eyes, the gestures that emphasized every other word, the hot Spanish blood that seemed to course so rapidly through the veins. These people are for ever one thing or the other; in them extremes meet; they know no medium ; they are all fire and energy and excitement, or all voluptuous indo- lence; their moods vary with the hour and the occasion ; now they are ready almost to take your life, and now they will perform in- credible acts of generosity to serve you. The night was intensely hot, and the ices they brought us at our bidding were delicious in quantity and quality ; a rare combination. But we thought of last night, the café in Malaga, the ices we had had there ; above all, those wonderful musicians who so impressed us that I hear them almost as distinctly as I did then, even now as I write, when another June has come round, and many scenes and much music have filled up the space between. We had no music here, and nothing to detain us very long; so presently we left the glare and glitter of light and laughter, and went out into the deserted streets that led towards the Alhambra. Everything was dark and gloomy ; we did not meet a soul; our echoing footsteps and voices alone broke the silence. Once more in the_ narrow Calle de Gomeres, up to the Grecian Gate; once more in the sombre avenue, where the hushed birds were sleeping in the trees, and the silence of night was oppressive. But the moon still rolled in splendour, giving us a flood of soft light that glinted through the whispering branches and cast shadows on our way. We wanted only the nightingales to perfect the night and the scene and the influence; no nightingale could have kept silence here ; but they had evidently all fled to other regions—these migratory birds, that come and charm us with their song, and so soon disappear : depart like the fairest things of earth, all we care for most, our dearest ECORMIEOOOKS. ©