The Argosy — page 310: what you’re looking at

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

~ Michael’s Mistake. 285 atism.” She kissed them again and again, wiping her eyes on her shawl. ‘‘ What he will feel to see you looking so bright and beau- tiful! And Miss Constella just as lovely as 4 They stopped her, laughing. ‘‘Oh, Betsy, don’t! Do you want to ruin us at once?” The old woman laughed too, tears running down her cheeks the while. “T must get your luggage, first, at all events, my dears. What have you? Just the one portmanteau?” Yes, do you remember it? Brass bands at the ends; and the strange lock. See, they are opening the van ; come quickly.” They hastened down the station, the quiet lamps shining upon them. A few drowsy passengers bent out from the windows of the train. The luggage van stood open, white deal packing-boxes and deserted look- ing hampers littered the platform around it. One passenger, a tall man, in a long grey ulster, was peering into the van as they came up; a porter was rummaging about inside. Viola bent forward. ** Oh, please would you give us out our portmanteau? A big one, with brass at the ends and a projecting lock.” The tall passenger turned round swiftly, the most intense surprise written on every feature. Viola Guyne caught a vision of a scholarly face and grave astonished eyes. ‘Then she spoke again to the porter, “Ts it there?” He swung himself out on to the platform, touching his hat. ** No, miss, it is not; nor in the other van either. I have been look- ing for one just like that for this gentleman. There’s nothing of the kind in the train.” Constella came a step forward. “I think it must be there,” she said quietly. ‘‘ We saw it put in, and I am sure there is no other like ours. The brass runs up and down the ends in bands; and the lock stands out more than an inch from the portmanteau.” *‘ But that is exactly the description of mine!” Viola and Constella Guyne stared; two dark grave eyes studied them in return, after a moment smiling at their bewilderment. The old servant interfered sharply : “The young ladies’ portmanteau must be there, do you hear, porter? Just go in again and look, will you.” Viola gathered up her courage and addressed the stranger. “I don’t understand. Have you really a portmanteau like that? And—and have you lost yours too?” He lifted his hat quietly and answered her. “Yes; it is a very strange coincidence. I never saw another portmanteau like mine; and I have knocked about a good deal lately. They are bath gone, I am afraid.” “Tt is dreadful. Constella, Betsy, what shall we do?” “Goodness knows, Miss Viola; it is very unlucky ; and at such an hour too!” Gomichboo (EO)