The Argosy — page 166: what you’re looking at

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

Hester. I51 Long before this, people had quite left off talking about the disaster in the Soudan. The news was some weeks old now, and so many things had happened since. ‘There had been a terrible murder of quite too-interesting barbarity. ©War was pending between Wamkong and Chochofoo, two rival Kings of the Gold Coast, because of an insult offered to the sacred tomahawk of the former; Mr. Gladstone had delivered a brilliant speech in Mid-Lothian, making bountiful use of language to conceal thought ; he had also cut down one tree, and planted another with a silver spade. Oh, these were stirring times! Who had leisure to remember a handful of Englishmen massacred in someone else’s quarrel? The world revolved on its axis still; nothing was changed or put out of joint, as one somehow feels it ought to be by one’s individual sorrow. Only at Morthoe a sad and silent woman moved through life with all the hope crushed out of her. Could she only have known for certain that she had a right to weep! If but for one moment Talbot could have come back from the realms of peace to tell her the truth—Was he hers still or that other’s—Hester felt she could have borne it better. A wild longing, which was almost a prayer, would come over her sometimes, as she wandered on the rugged shore washed by the wild Atlantic; and she would scarcely have been surprised to see the familiar form of him who had been her lover—yes, once! thank Heaven for that !—step forth from out the shadow of those weird rocks, with the farewell smile still on his lips and the love-light in his eyes. But no miracle interrupted the course of nature. ‘The dark mys- terious rocks, which seemed like the portals of the unseen world, disclosed no secrets. Hester’s aching heart found no response to its questionings in earth, or sea, or sky. But even our unuttered prayers are answered, though perhaps not always Just in our own way. While they were still at Morthoe, one morning—a morning which Hester Conway will never forget—a letter and newspaper were carried up on the tray with the early cup of tea which she took, invalid- fashion, upstairs. Dora’s letters were not wont to be exciting, and Hester, opening it, read with rather languid interest, till she came to this strange paragraph : ‘““T send you a paper with an account of the rejoicings at Guest- wycke on Talbot’s return. All went off well (we were there, of course), and the poor old people’s quiet happiness was a sight to see. Isn't it a strange romantic kind of story! ‘The hero of the day asked par- ticularly after you, and seemed rather annoyed at your absence. I did not dare mention poor Lorette to him. Didn’t you laugh over her imposture? If Talbot had not turned up again the truth would actually never have been known at all! Mrs. Tracy was staying with friends at Exeter when the news of ‘Talbot’s safety reached Guestwycke. Mr. Guest sent her a telegram at once, and the very next day Lorette wrote to her landlady here, throwing up her rooms and ordering all her belongings to be sent to her at Exeter directly. Colm a IDOOKSHEO