The Argosy — page 284: what you’re looking at

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

The Mystery of Allan Grale. 265 “ There was a great horror upon me, child, yet nothing was clear. Somehow I’ve always had a shrinking feeling of that Black Pool. It was not only that I seemed to be looking down at it, but I felt the horrid chill of the water. And my sister Marget was in all the dream, and seemed continually to be following me about, wanting something. Sometimes she was a girl as she used to be, and sometimes she was a worn-out old woman as Allan says she is now. It’s likely she has thought a good deal about me, since Alny was at Savoch. Perhaps that is what made me dream of her.” “You were talking a great deal about her with Miss Matthewson last night—it must have been through that,” observed Mary Anne. ‘““T don’t know,” persisted Mrs. Grale. ‘“‘ I’ve often noticed things work together, in a wonderful way, without anybody’s willing or planning, and when they do that, I fancy they must mean something. There’s your brother finding himself at Savoch without any intention of his own. I’m sure your Uncle Gibson’s is the last sort of house Alny would care to visit.” “But he went there of his own accord,” said Mary Anne. ‘“ He might have gone to the nearest hotel instead.” She spoke with something of the asperity she generally reserved for home consumption, for she had not been pleased with Allan for taking George Vivian among those homely relatives at Savoch. “That would have been most unnatural,” said Mrs. Grale, impres- sively, “‘when a very Providence seemed to have led him to their door.” “Well, what are the other things which have worked together now ?” asked Mary Anne. ‘There was our meeting with Bell Matthewson,” said Mrs. Grale. ‘You know yourself how unexpected that was, and how Lady Laura had to overrule me to get me to wait to see her.” “That makes only two things,” said Mary Anne, perhaps really wishing to disperse her mother’s ill impressions ; ‘‘and we could have come away if we had liked.” “Ah,” said Mrs. Grale, ‘‘ we may run from fate, Mary Anne, but we shall always find it in front, coming to meet us.” “You owe those ideas to your Scotch bringing-up, mother,” observed the girl. ‘“ Never mind what I owe them to, if they are true,” returned Mrs. Grale. ‘And then there is this,” she went on, lowering her voice as if she thought she would now at last impress her daughter: ‘ ‘Twice before in my life has Bell Matthewson turned up unexpectedly, and each time something ill has happened.” Mary Anne laughed lightly ; her nature was entirely destitute of superstition. “She has been out of sight for a long time now, mother. Has nothing happened all that while ?” Mrs. Grale took no notice of this, but went on with her story. ‘Once, when Bell was only a child, she was sent away from home for conmicaookKks (SO)