The Argosy — page 348: what you’re looking at

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

A Platenc Attachment. 327 quite old-fashoned in all her ways—as old-fashioned as my master’s flower-garden, so I’ve heard said. At all events, they seemed to suit each other, these two, and this went on ten years. “Two months ago—it was in May; I know the day, the date, the hour—the master stood here in the porch. Huis favourite mare— ‘the Lady Charlotte’ named after the Countess—was at the door, led by the groom. The master was putting on his gloves, humming to himself the while his favourite sea song, ‘ Poor Tom Bowling.’ “*¢ Mrs. Wilton, will you kindly sew a button on this glove?’ he asked, seeing me cross the hall. **¢ Thanks, thanks,’ he said, when a minute or two later I returned. ‘I could not have gone to see my lady with a buttonless glove!’ «© ¢ Would she have remarked it, sir?’ I asked. * He smiled, stooped, gathered a lily of the valley, and as he placed it in his button-hole, looked at me with a quick, bright, meaning glance. “Well, yes, she would,’ he answered, and, raising his foot to the stirrup, was into his saddle in a moment, with all the activity of twenty years ago. I watched him ride out of the gate and listened to the last sound of his horse’s feet dying away in the far distance. The sun shone, the sky was blue, the birds sang in the branches—the song my master loved echoing in my ears. He had sung it cheerily, cheerily—and yet it was a sad one! “It seems, as I learned afterwards, the Countess had not been well the day before, and all night felt ill and feverish ; for hours she lay awake, and when sleep came it brought a dream—a dream that filled her mind with fear and strange forebodings of some coming trouble. “Such an impression did the dream make on her that she could not close her eyes without seeming to see it again and again, In the morning she was too ill and exhausted to rise, but, bidding her maid bring writing materials, she sat up in bed and wrote to my dear master in these words: “¢ DEAR FRIEND,—I knew not that I was superstitious, but last night I had a painful dream concerning you. You remember the picture in the Academy, which, in the opening day, we stood contemplating so long together, and which we both so much admired; the title of it: “Home they Brought her Warrior Dead!” In my dream I seemed to see that picture, but the face of the dead warrior was yours. It has affected me deeply, but my trust is in God that he will watch over you so that my ill dream may be no portent of any evil to you. To- morrow I hope to be well enough to see you, and in that hope, I am, as ever, yours in all friendship. Cuinwert ‘P.S. I pray you send a few lines to say if all be well with you?’ “ Arrived at the castle, my master was told the Countess was not well enough to see him; but the letter which she had written was given to (EOMAICELOCIC) CS (E() m