The Argosy — page 266: what you’re looking at

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

The Mystery of Allan Grale. 247 got into notice the great world who would patronise all things would certainly recognise him as their equal. ‘“ And what will my uncle say then ?” asked Rose, with a toss of her light pretty head. There was not to be any friend from either side at the marriage. The parish clerk would give the bride away. Mrs. Wilson herself and one of her lodgers, a Miss North, a lively little music teacher, were pressed into service as companions to keep the bride in countenance. But on the evening before the ceremony, a strange change seemed to come over the light heedless spirit of the bride-elect. Mr. Forester paid her a long visit, and their little preparations being all complete, the two had had an earnest and uninterrupted conversation. It happened that he went away at last without seeing Mrs. Wilson ; and when she entered the parlour after his departure, she found Rose sitting there, pale and tearful, with a solemn light shining on her face. She did not make any remark, but she rose and kissed the kind land- lady—a caress she had never before bestowed on her. ‘“ Aye, I know how you feel, my dear,” said the good woman. *““You wish it was to-morrow morning, and that it was all over, and yet you wish you had another two or three weeks to consider it. Not that you don’t trust him, I’m sure, my dear, but that it’s a great change, and can’t ever be undone once it is done.” “I—Im a little frightened, I think,” whispered Rose. ‘‘ I’m only a poor little thing—such a silly little thing, uncle Joseph used to say!” ‘But just what satisfies Mr. Forester,” said Mrs. Wilson cheerily. *“And as for being a silly little thing—love teaches us all wisdom fast enough, my dear. Love is a teacher who spares no pains.” Rose did not answer. Perhaps there was something upon her mind which was beyond the reach of the homely consolation. ‘“‘Is it not strange?” she asked presently, ‘‘that to-night, of all nights, I cannot help thinking of my uncle and the dear old place?” ‘Not a bit strange,” answered the landlady. ‘It’s natural to take a long last look of anything. You'll never see your old life again, my dear. Your own eyes will be changed.” ‘““J wonder,” said Rose, speaking slowly and sadly, ‘‘ I wonder if I shall ever wish that this had never happened !” ‘Of course not,” cried Mrs. Wilson, loyal to the happiness of marriage. ‘‘ It won’t be all sunshine, my dear, I don’t say that it will. We wouldn’t wish it—light and shade, my dear, and calm and storm ; but the sun will be always there. And when you're an old woman, my dear young lady, and have seen the best and the worst, you'll say that this is the one action of your life that you’d do over again—may be, in a little different way, for I can’t help being sorry that you’re not reconciled to your uncle. But so long as life is life here will be rubs in it, and nothing is quite perfect !” COnIClOOKS ) (SO)