The Argosy — page 350: what you’re looking at

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

C—O ee, The Mystery of Allan Grale. 320 others. We can say ‘God bless them,’ though we cannot be there.” Her soft eyes were full of tears, and the patient lines of her mouth were quivering. George raised his head feebly, but he did not raise himself, and he did not catch any glimpse of the fluttering robes. He fell back wearily. ‘God bless them !” he said faintly, ‘if a blessing from me is not unlucky. I hope they will be happy !” ‘J am sure of it,” said Maria. “That is a wide declaration,” rejoined the invalid. ‘‘ There seems nothing but suffering and sorrow in the world: and if some of us do bring them upon ourselves, they fall also upon the most innocent. You remember my telling you of the marriage of Morna McOrist— the daughter of the farm at Ragan, Maria ? ” “Ves, you told me quite lately,” answered Maria. ‘“And now she is very ill; strangely, sadly ill,” George added, lowering even his low voice. ‘She is losing her mind.” “QO, how terrible!” cried Maria, in startled sympathy with the un- happy Highland bride. ‘‘Is there any cause for it, George? Has the marriage been unfortunate P” “They say the young husband is nearly wild with grief,” went on George; ‘so wild, that sometimes they almost fear for his reason, too. Maria,” he added, ‘‘ there is something very strange about Morna McOrist’s ravings.” “Young Mrs. Smith, you mean,” said practical Maria, simply. ‘‘ Is she so ill as actually to rave, George ?” ‘Well, not as you may understand raving,” returned her brother. “They say she goes about quietly, whispering to herself concerning a dark pool, with a dead body in it.” “What?” gasped Maria, turning hot and cold. George resumed his weird narrative in a low whisper. ‘““'The madness, as they tell me, of Morna McOrist—that pure, innocent Highland girl—is that. She bears about with her the ima- ginary remorse of an imaginary murderer.” ‘What can it possibly mean?” exclaimed Maria. ‘“ You say the ee Pool !—George,” she rapidly continued, as an idea struck her, “is it possible that you have written to your friends an account of the mystery connected with the Black Pool here ?” He shook his nead. ‘“‘ Because, if so,” went on Maria, “vour friends would naturally relate the story to the McOrists ; it would be quite an event in that dreary district ; and—if the young wife’s mind was in a weakened state, she might seize unduly upon these terrible images.” ‘J have not written a word upon the subject ; I have never men- tioned it,” replied George. : ‘Can they have read it in the papers ?” said Maria. “Few papers reach the solitudes of Ragan,” answered George. COMIC IDOOKS.C