The Argosy — page 125: what you’re looking at

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

IIO The Mystery of Allan Grale. “Yes, I know,” she interrupted, rather hastily. ‘I can work. I have not been an idle girl hitherto. I know I am a Stranger here. But when one carries one’s crewel work and one’s sketches in one’s hand to the shops, if the work is wanted, they do not much care who the worker is.” Mr. Forester shook his head dreamily. Indeed he felt as one in a dream of drifting, unable to direct his own course, but sure that it will be stopped somewhere, whether by dashing over the rapids or by settling into a harbour! He heard Rose’s words, but he had enough experience to know that Rose could find no safe maintenance by the exercise of her slender arts. He felt stifled. Surely the close room was growing closer ! ‘““ Rose,” he said, “‘ I] must leave you now. I will come again to- morrow, and by then, I shall have thought over all you have told me, and shall have got information on one or two points for our guidance. Do not worry yourself. Do not be afraid.” (He said inwardly, that if one of them was to be sacrificed, it must be himself, but relief would come somehow—and it would not be.) ‘‘ You are to be cheerful, Rose. Promise me!” | That tone brought back her smiles in a moment, and, with the smiles, the old charm which had first won the lhght heart of Mr. Forester. As he ran down stairs after shaking hands, he looked almost like a happy man! But the landlady was awaiting him in the passage—a tall, spare, elderly woman, with a black lace cap shading an old fashioned and rather faded face: a very dragon of propriety. Sir,” said she, and her accent was good, though her tone was acid, ‘¢T must crave your pardon for enquiring whether you are any rela- tive to the young lady upstairs? She looked so ladylike and spoke so pleasantly, saying she was an artist from the country, that for her sake, I broke my rule, which is never to receive a lodger without references. My having done so in this case must be my excuse for putting this plain question. I owe it to my other lodgers, as well as to myself.” . ~ What could Mr. Forester do? One word—and Rose would lose even this shadow of home and protection. Her true tale would not be believed ; he knew well what would be thought of it. ‘The land- lady stood before him, pale, proper and portentous, and there was the girl upstairs. It seemed to him a symbol of the world hunting down a lamb that had strayed from its safe daisy meadows. — “Madam,” he said, nervously, ‘‘I recognise your right to ask questions. Jam thankful that the young lady—so utterly a stranger —was fortunate in finding a lodging so well guarded as hers will be in your house. Iam not a relative—but a friend ”—he felt the land- lady’s eyes fixed upon him, and his face glowed. ‘‘ A friend—who hopes shortly to be something more. At the present moment a day or two will decide a great deal for us—and if some circumstances COMNCOOOKSCGOM,