The Argosy — page 357: what you’re looking at

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

336 The Mystery of Allan Grale. been elevated. And how she hated the rich carpets ! How she loathed the carved furniture! Could anyone ever be happy among the stately appointments, which made the background for the bitterness of death in her life? Oh for the summer woods of Redbourne, and the chintz cushions and curtains of the cosy old parlour of her Uncle Joseph’s house! Oh, even for the bare severity of her lonely chamber at Ragan farm, where, if she had not been quite happy, at least she had been hopeful and expectant. And then it was all over. They took her away to the chamber which Maria had caused to be got ready for her. ‘They lighted a large fire on the wide hearth, for grief shivers. They brought her wine, for grief is faint. They spoke to her in gentle tones, they touched her with tender hands. As if in a dream she saw them all, those kind old servants. She saw Maria, too, coming and going; Maria was weeping; but she did not weep. She heard them say: “‘ She would be better if the tears came.” Oh how lonely it was! They did not seem to like to leave her alone. As ifshe could be lonelier than she was in their presence ! She lay where they led her, on the sofa near the fire. A kind old woman, an ancient family servant, in a white cap and apron, went softly to and fro. Rose lay and watched her. She remembered a fever she had when a child. She had lain and watched her nurse then, and had felt just as she felt now—not sure what was real and what was fancy—not sure whether she was awake or dreaming. There was a rap at the door. ‘The old servant went and opened it, anda few sentences were exchanged outside. Then the old ser- | vant came into the room, and advanced softly towards her. What was to happen next? Rose lay motionless, as one spell-bound. ‘‘'There’s somebody wanting to speak with you, madam, my dear,” said the old woman. ‘‘ You ought not to be disturbed, we know, but Miss Maria says we are to hear your own wishes.” Young Mrs. Vivian half rose. She looked the question she seemed powerless to utter. ‘The person says we are to tell you it is Mrs. Tree—Cicely Rayn- ham that was,” said the old nurse. She was faithfully carrying out her instructions, though they puzzled her, knowing as she did who was waiting with Maria outside the door of the young widow’s room. None other than the yellow woman. Rose sprang to her feet. ‘‘ Cousin Cicely!” she cried, with a cry of mingled agony and rapture that was terrible to hear. In another moment she was clasped in the arms of that slight woman, who did not wear her yellow cloak to-day, but was clad in deep mourning. ‘“Tve got you safe at last, child!” said this cousin Cicely. Rose’s face was buried on her shoulder. She was weeping freely now. The old familiar voice had unlocked the frozen heart-springs. ‘“T have been looking for you ever since you went away, Rose,” said Cicely, as they were left alone and sat together on the sofa. CONMIELNCKO KS a (EO)