The Argosy — page 309: what you’re looking at

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

284 Michael’s Mistake. the dry windows of the carriages. Clank, clank, clatterly-clank ; a wild lonely lake stretching out beside it, a vast expanse of undulating plain lying before it. At the end of the plain, a little quivering cluster of lights. The window of a first-class compartment goes down slowly, and the wind blows fiercely against a girl’s small head; the darkness is unfathomable ; nothing of the lake to be seen, nothing of the plain; only the twinkling distant lights. She keeps her head out for a minute, nostrils dilated, eyes glittering ; then she turns suddenly back again. ** Constella!” A figure stretched out upon one of the seats, starts up with a bound. “Viola !—What—why—where are we?” Viola laughed. ‘‘Almost at home; come and look out at the lights. What a time you have been asleep, Constella ! Ever since we left Hillsborough. I suppose the boat last night tired you ? ” Constella nodded. ‘“ Yes, it was the boat. Also that scene—do you remember—just as we were leaving Hillsborough! The fair man on the platform, and the dark man in our train. That set me off; first day-dreaming, and then dreaming in reality. Oh, how grand! how beautiful! How is it, Viola, that the night and the darkness always raise one’s spirits so?” ‘* Not the darkness, Constella; the bright prospect in the midst of the darkness.” “No, no, no! If we were in the most desolate place on earth it would be just the same, so long as one could breathe up the myste- rious night-wind.” Viola Guyne turned away from the window with a sigh. “You always were a strange child, Constella, and these three years abroad have made you stranger. I can assure you our rough English wind will soon blow all your dreaminess away. Oh, the dear little town! Here come the lights of the square, and the steeple clock. Oh, Constella, half past two; I can read the time. Think of arriv- ing at this hour in the night! will grandpapa come to meet us?” “Viola! with his rheumatism! no; but Betsy will.” Viola laughed. ‘‘So she will. Now, Constella, we must make haste to get our luggage. Have you all your wraps ready ?” “Yes. Viola, look! do you see her—Betsy ?” “Yes, and with the same old bonnet! Constella, it makes one almost ashamed.” They both laughed,’ and opening the carriage-door, jumped tumult- — uously into the tearful embrace of a kindly-faced woman on the plat- form. ‘Betsy! you dear old creature, how are you? You shouldn't have come out so late. Is grandpapa well?” “Quite well, quite well, Miss Viola, dear—except for his rheum- GEomicbooks.co