The Argosy — page 77: what you’re looking at

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

64 Christobel. ‘You know what I mean,” Fortescue resumed. ‘‘ Please don’t say any more,” interrupted the girl, distressed. ‘“ If you could guess how far such ideas are from me—how they jar with all my aims, with my whole life ! ” He looked perplexed as well as pained, for her manner was unmis- takably sincere, and her words amounted to a rejection; but at the same time, in her voice and look there was something sorrowful and appealing, almost like a prayer for indulgence, which he could not understand. Further conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the post. It brought one or two letters for everybody except Christobel, who, as Mrs. Chisholm immediately remarked, “never received any,” and a telegram as well for Major Fortescue. The little widow, having glanced through her own correspondence, and being presently at a loss for further occupation, bethought her- self of the portfolio and asked Christobel to show it to her. ‘Major Fortescue 1s quite an artist,” she exclaimed, as she turned over the sketches. ‘‘Who would ever have thought it ?” “Not I, for one,” said Verschoyle, laughing. ‘‘ Not, indeed, that I doubted Fortescue’s ability,” he added, ‘‘ but because of his air of graceful leisure, which one takes to be incompatible with work of any kind.” | A curious expression flitted over Fortescue’s face. He had been standing by the fire in a very thoughtful and silent mood ever since the receipt of the telegram, but now roused himself to say: ‘I have had some news which obliges me to return to town, Miss Hillyer. I am afraid I must leave you, even before dinner.” Many regrets were expressed, of course, and Verschoyle tried a little persuasion to induce his friend to remain, but Fortescue was firm. The news which he had received was important, evidently, for he looked sombre but resolute, like a man who is facing a crisis. Only when bidding Christobel good-bye did he betray any emotion, and then it was visible to no one but her. MHer eyes fell beneath the erave tenderness of his glance, and she let her fingers dwell perhaps a moment longer than was needful in his strong, detaining clasp. But except that the colour flushed a little into her cheeks she gave no sign of feeling, and Fortescue dropped her hand suddenly at last ; so suddenly, indeed, that it was like an act of renunciation. Christobel remembered it later, and was sorry. That evening, after dinner, whether from the state of the atmo- sphere or some other cause, everybody was singularly depressed. Christobel was silent, Mrs. Chisholm bored, Mr. Hillyer morose, and Mr. Sherlock sleepy. Godfrey and Geraldine, indeed, looked very _ happy, but as they sat apart and communicated the secret of their joy to no one, they did not enliven the rest of the party. Into the midst of all this, the sound of the door-bell loudly rung fell with a welcome promise of excitement. But the next feeling to m COMMICOOOKS. EO)