The Argosy — page 248: what you’re looking at

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

** Her Francis.” 231 At this moment Helen entered the room dressed for dinner. Mabel started up, thinking it must be late. Perhaps she had news for her. ‘What are you doing there in the dark?” The suspiciousness in her voice made Helen force a laugh. “No harm,” replied Mabel. ‘‘I was having a sort of ‘meditation among the tombs.’” Helen’s answer was to put her arm suddenly round Mabel. “Why, Helen, what is it?” she asked, startled and uneasy at her action and then at her silence. ‘‘ There is no bad news? Nothing from home P” | “No, nothing from your home.: Indeed mamma herself received only one letter this morning. It was from Naples.” | “From Naples,” echoed Mabel a little faintly. ‘‘Who does she know there? Helen, speak! who is in Naples?” she repeated, a deadly chill creeping over her at her friend’s ominous silence. “‘ Many people—Francis Grantley, for one.” ** But he will be here to-morrow—or the next day ? “He said he did not know when he should return. Perhaps he might run over to Cairo or Algiers.” Cairo or Algiers or the other end of the world ; it was all the same to Mabel Talbot. Mabel never willingly recalled the hour which followed Helen’s leaving the room until she started up and dressed herself in feverish haste. In that short time she seemed to have become some other Mabel Talbot, who would soon have to return to the home where she had passed more than twenty years of tranquil happiness, carrying with her a remembrance which she could ask no one to help her to bear. A remembrance that accident had thrown a coat in her way, that the Fates had willed that its owner should be named Francis, and that the said unlucky Mabel Talbot had scribbled a few words on the back of a letter. And that was all the story? No. Something more. She had taken falseness for truth. It was no dream, that scene that she _had taken part in, and that Helen had been obliged to interrupt, and had therefore been a witness to. Yet was it unreal as a dream, for it had been an acted lie. And the days went on. One afternoon she was near the post-office, and was overtaken by a heavy shower. While she stood under the colonnades, Hugh Sedley suddenly rushed past her. He stopped short on seeing her. . “Oh, Mabel,” he said breathlessly, ‘“‘so awfully sorry you were not - in. I read Lottie’s last letter to Helen Keith. Lottie zs the best girl in all the world. You don’t half know what she is.” | “T ought to do so,” answered Mabel, smiling involuntarily, “ for I have known her ever since she was born.” Hugh looked rather jealously at her, and then laughed. CoOnnicloooks (SO)