The Argosy — page 171: what you’re looking at

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

158 Charles Austen’s Love. ‘‘Grandmamma is always cross now,” answered Lucy. “But I think she suffers a good deal,” she added, in extenuation. ‘‘ And she is growing old,too. I always think that life to the old must be either one thing or the other: either very unlovely, dreary and sad, or very beautiful with the glow upon it of the unseen life that is approaching. This depends upon how the past life has moulded the character, and directed one’s hopes and affections.” She spoke half dreamily, half to herself, and was probably carrying out the train of thought in which she was indulging before Charles Austen had come upon her so suddenly. “IT can imagine what your old age will be,” he said, looking ten- derly upon her. ‘‘ To you will belong all its softness and beauty, and people will come to you in all their troubles for comfort and con- solation.” ‘You think too well of me,” returned Lucy, smiling. ‘“ Already I feel as if my youth were slipping away from me, and as yet there has been very little loveliness in my life. Before you came upon me so abruptly, I was wondering whether this sort of existence was to be mine for ever.” | ** And was this the cause of your tears?” he asked. ‘I fear so,” replied Lucy, blushing. ‘ But after all perhaps I am ungrateful. If wedo not take our lives into our own hands, they are chosen for us—and therefore what Iam now going through must be best for me.” ‘Vou are an optimist,” he laughed. ‘“T believe in the overruling and constant watchfulness of a Higher Power,” she replied simply. ‘One who does all things well. Yes, I am sure that everything is for the best. Is that being an optimist ?” * Tt is the right way of looking at life, the wisest and most trusting,” answered Charles Austen. ‘ And it brings its reward.” He now drew open the small side gate and came in. Miss Dennit turned towards the house. He walked with her up the winding path. “Were you coming in to see grandmamma?” she enquired. “No; not particularly. Let us sit down for a few moments.” And without waiting for any assent, he drew her to the bench beneath the great oak tree. There, once more taking her hand in his, he quietly asked her, his voice attuned to softness, to be his wife. Lucy started away from him, flushing red to the very roots of her hair. Mr. Austen saw the swift rush of colour, dim though the light was there under the tree, “You are asking me out of pity!” she cried, putting her hands to her face. ‘Surely you can have no love for so sad and spiritless a girl as my life has made me.” “Indeed, you wrong me,” he answered; “as much as you wrong yourself by that description. I came here this evening with the firm intention of asking you to be my wife. Our conversation has made me, if possible, still more anxious for your reply.” GOmIcbooks.com