The Argosy — page 349: what you’re looking at

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

328 The Mystery of Allan Grale. ‘Oh, that was it, was it,” said old Mittens, after he had listened to the account she gave. ‘‘And the women be saying now as Mr. Edgar Vivian never did the t’other thing, be they! Well, I never thought as he did do it; not me. ‘Iwas said a good deal turned upon his not being able to find a letter what was writ to him by other one, young Grale. I shouldn’t wonder but that there letter is among some o’ my collected scraps, but I didn’t know on’t when I first looked ’em over, and I can’t be bothered to look again.” Mary Letts took in the words eagerly. She had been long enough at Dering to hear all about the fatal history and Mr. Edgar Vivian’s inability to produce the letter which he professed to have received from Scotland. ‘‘T’ll look among the scraps for that letter myself if I’m given the opportunity,” thought the grateful woman. A day or two after this brought the marriage of Charles Carr and Lettice Palmer. It was a lovely morning in September. There could not have been a quieter wedding. Both wished it so, for their own sakes, though they might have given up their wishes to please others. It was for others’ sake, however, that they secured theirs. At another time, when all the Court family might have been pre- sent, Charles Carr would have selected his old school-fellow, Mark Acland, for his groomsman: and there would have been two brides- maids, Agnes Palmer and Maria Vivian. But now there could be only Agnes ; and Charles, putting aside young Acland, made a point of selecting Edgar Vivian : who accepted the post. A wedding group, and those two, the Vivians, in it, with such a past as lay immediately behind them, could only be solemn ard quiet. But the shadow of the Future was on them too. For the angel of Death stood on the threshold of Dering Court. ‘There was not one in the village who did not know that George Vivian was dying—except, perhaps, George himself. ‘ And surely he must know it too!” thought Maria, watching him as he lay on a sofa at one of the windows which commanded a wide view of the surrounding country, and from which he might catch a distant glimpse of the white-robed bridal party as they left the little church. Surely, surely, he must know it! Even the strange hopefulness, characteristic of the malady, could scarcely delude him into a belief that those livid, transparent hands could once more flush with the ruddy hue of health, that that peculiar and ghostly voice could ever again shout or sing! Yet George would still say that he should soon be quite well, if only he could get to Ragan; and with the friends he had there he still -kept up a constant correspondence, though the letters on his side were waning short and feeble. “There !” said Maria, rising and holding back the curtains: ‘‘ there they go, George—the bride and bridegroom; and now come the GOMmiGooOoks (EO)