The Argosy — page 76: what you’re looking at

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

Christobel. 63 “You are thinking of lovers,” answered Christobel, with a fugitive, rather bitter smile. ‘‘ But the garish light of experience shows tke seamy side of ¢/az, as well as of every other romantic dream. What one longs for in sorrow is to be comforted by someone—a mother—a sister—who asks for no recognition or reward, who is drawn to one not by beauty or charms, but clings through good and evil report simply because of the tie of blood and kinship. You, who have dwelt here, always secluded and holy, like St. Barbara in the tower, can hardly conceive what it is to be deprived of all this.” “You think it? Ah, how little you know!” exclaimed Geraldine, while a sudden sense of her own joyless youth rushed over her and filled her eyes with tears. Christobel was startled. This girl, then, on whose lot she had looked with envy, who had a home and an assured position, with kindred and friends about her, was hardly more happy than herself. “How selfish I have been! I never guessed,” she murmured in answer to her own unspoken thought. And then, as Geraldine, half ashamed, because of her natural sweet reticence, to have said so much, struggled to be calm, her guest leant forward and softly kissed her on the brow. ‘““A very pretty picture, I declare,” remarked the dulcet tones of Mrs. Chisholm, who, unnoticed, had appeared at the curtained arch dividing the library from the drawing-room. Behind her were Major Fortescue and Godfrey. “ Major Fortescue, you have a portfolio under your arm, and I have just discovered that you sketch,” continued the widow. ‘Here is a subject for you. You might call it ‘ Hermia and Helena ;’ shall we say after the quarrel, or before it?” and Mrs. Chisholm laughed. ‘““ Have you then brought your sketches to show me, according to your promise ?” asked Christobel softly of the Major as he sat down beside her. Fortescue’s evident admiration and quiet but watchful devotion had touched her very much; the more so that she had gradually dis- covered in him qualities which most people, judging superficially, were wont to overlook. Under his languid manners and indolent talk she had detected both character and intelligence. Now, as he began to show her the contents of his portfolio, she was surprised at the extent of talent revealed by them. “This is not amateur’s work. Where have you studied ?” she said. “In France, Italy, but always in rather a dilettante fashion. I am afraid it has not been my habit to put much earnestness into anything—until now.”—-He added the last words:in a lower tone, and with an earnest, almost supplicating look that did not need much comment. <A troubled expression crossed Christobel’s face, as she turned away her head with a sad little gesture of negation in answer to his unspoken request. CoOnniclooolkks mM