The Argosy — page 293: what you’re looking at

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

274 The Amethyst Seal. Tulip being bidden to ‘ gee-up,” started off at a brisk trot, being probably quite aware that she was on her way back to the stable. That night the Stilwater letter-bag never reached London. Having seen the mail-cart and its sleeping driver disappear in the darkness, Harold Dare set off at a rapid pace on his way back to Barrowcliff. He reached the station in due course, but by that time the London mail had gone—for which he was not sorry—after wait- ing five minutes beyond its specified time for the Stilwater bags. But the down mail to the north was due in a quarter of an hour, and by that he booked. ‘Two hours later he found himself in Manchester. There he stayed the night, and travelled up to town by an early train, but by a different route, next morning. All this time he had kept the stolen packet unopened in his pocket. Impatient as he was to master the secret of its contents, he deemed it best, not to attempt to open the envelope till the proper means for doing so were ready to his hand. In his rooms he had a spirit-lamp, with an apparatus for making coffee. With the jet of steam from this he carefully melted the seal, and by the same means removed the stamps which had been defaced at the Stilwater post-office. Then he was free to read that for which he had run so many risks. He sat down in his easy chair trembling with excitement, and drew the folded foolscap from its envelope. His uncle’s crabbed writing was familiar to him, and he had no difficulty in deciphering it. His eye skimmed the manuscript rapidly, taking no note of details, till on the third page he found the first mention of his own name. ‘To my kinsman, Harold Dare, I bequeath the sum of eight thousand pounds.” Eight thousand pounds! It was more, far more, than his hopes had dared to foreshadow. All would yet be well with him. His. heart gave a great throb of relief, the hand that held the paper dropped by his side; for the moment he was overcome. But there was something else that he was almost equally anxious to see. He turned over another page, and there found what he was looking for. ‘To my beloved ward, Elinor Trenton, who has been to me as a dear daughter, I bequeath the sum of six thousand pounds.” Why, this was better and better! Harold felt that he had never loved Elinor nearly so much as at that moment ; never had she seemed so dear to him before. He made up his mind there and then that he would propose to her at Christmas, and he had a sufficiently good opinion of himself to feel little doubt as to the result. His star was. evidently in the ascendant. When he had in some measure recovered his equanimity he read the draft through carefully, clause by clause. ‘There was nothing else in it that interested him. Of course the bulk of everything went to his cousin, Bruce—it could not be otherwise. Now that he had ascertained all that it behoved him to know, the CONNIE KS. (E0)