The Argosy — page 202: what you’re looking at

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

The Mystery of Allan Grale. 185 undoubted kindliness—for Allan was kind—might choose to take refuge under apparent indifference. Maria had not again expressed a wish to see Allan: possibly, as she heard nothing further about it, she thought the trouble about Charles Carr might have ended. ~ But Maria felt inwardly restless. She walked out often, choosing generally the way that led to the Mill and to Moorland House. It might be that she was hoping to meet Allan Grale. It was on one of these rambles, one Monday afternoon, when all things seemed dull at home—Edgar low spirited and George away in London—that Maria saw the Grale carriage at the door of Nurse Kate’s cottage. Both the ladies had evidently alighted and gone in, for Mrs. Grale’s wrapper and. Mary Anne’s parasol were lying on the vacant seat. Maria went on, towards the Palmers’, thinking that whatever might be the Grales’ shortcomings they were not remiss in their attentions to old dependants. In reality Mrs. Grale’s present visit to the nurse had grown out of that visit of Allan’s, when he carried the old woman some flowers as a screen to his disposal of the Oriental box. This afternoon Mrs. Grale had discovered that she had come to the end of her hampers. She had sent out several lately, and somehow the boxes and baskets had not been returned so quickly as usual. Mrs. Grale’s wealth, if it had made her simplicity vulgar, at least had not so demoralised her as to render her careless of small economies. Her daughter might sniff at her mother’s thrift in packthread, and precise reckonings of Jam- pots, but Mrs. Grale was not to be misled from her old habits. So when she saw the empty hamper-closet, she, remembering that one had gone to Nurse Kate’s, directed her afternoon drive to the nurse’s cottage. It was a wonder that Mary Anne Grale chose to alight at the old servant’s. But it was a windy afternoon, with a good deal of dust flying, and as she knew her mother often indulged in a long chat, Mary Anne consulted her own comfort by going in also. The old woman eagerly welcomed them, pouring out thanks for all the nice things Mr. Allan had brought her that past day. “I thought shame of not coming up to thank you, ma’am,” she said, “but my ankle’s been uncommon bad.” ‘JT thought as much, Kate,” said Mrs. Grale. ‘Only I want my basket. We will just take it back ourselves, in the carriage.” “The basket, ma’am ?” echoed the nurse. She was a little old woman, In a capacious lilac apron, with a withered-apple sort of face set in a broad cap-frilling, and an expression of mingled infantine innocence and witch-like cunning. “Yes, the basket,” repeated Mrs. Grale. ‘‘ You’ve not forgotten it, I suppose. A good fresh hamper, one of the new sort; square, with a flat lid, and a handle in the middle of it.” ‘““ Aye, I mind it,” said the old woman. ‘“ But Mr. Allan did not leave it here, ma’am ; he took it away with him. I was real vexed ECOMNICMHOOKS.EO an