The Argosy — page 325: what you’re looking at

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

306 An Oxford Idyll. When Ned Beauchamp had made that excuse about his work, he had lost himself at once amongst the crowd near the entrance gate. Flowers were all very well, but he had no longer any heart for them. Mab had played him false. People looked after the tall, broad-shouldered young fellow, with his handsome, moody face, and many would have greeted him, but he looked neither to the right nor left. ‘There was a dull, heavy pain in his heart, a sense of humiliation and defeat that was driving him nearly wild. A sweet, girlish face had bewitched him ; he was ready to give all he had in the world—not only his money, but him- self and his honest, manly heart—to this girl, and she wanted none of it, She had promised him to come—at least, if silence gives con- sent—and now she had played him false; his wishes were nothing ‘to her; he had told her he should know what to think. Well, he knew what to think now! So the foolish young fellow argued with himself, never dreaming in his man’s philosophy that possibly there might be another side to all this. He had reached Magdalen Cloisters by this time, but the thought of work was odious to him, so he turned through the inner gate into the shadowy coolness of Addison’s Walk. It had never looked so deliciously inviting as it did this afternoon. The deer were clustered in a shady nook in the park, the birds were twittering overhead, quite lost among the green leaves; the golden sunlight quivered through the thick foliage ; the long vista seemed to stretch endlessly before him, like love and youth, merging into a sunshiny horizon ; everywhere green leaves, bird-music, sparkles of sunlight, and the clear summer blue of heaven above all. The walk seemed strangely empty this afternoon. Ned had only passed one person—a thick-set, grey-haired man, who was poking his stick among the periwinkles, and took no notice of him. A little farther on there was a bench, with a girl sitting on it in a grey dress, and a hat with daffodils ; but Ned was in no mood for curiosity, so he never turned his head. Only as he passed the girl siarted up, and called to him in an eager voice. ‘Oh, please stop, Mr. Beauchamp! We want to know where Owen is. And—and—I beg your pardon for startling you so; but you need not have passed me.” Mab was stammering sadly in her confusion, but it was the sudden look of joy in Ned’s eyes that made her trip over her words. And why had he caught hold of her hands in that quick, excited way ? ‘Oh, Mab, is it really you! And why did your sister say you had not come? I thought you had played me false. I thought—oh! I cannot tell you how mad and unhappy I felt—and you were here all the time, my darling.” Well, it was good of Uncle Powell to stand with his back to them SO lone, feeling among the periwinkle leaves, when they had so much to tell each other. Mab cried again a little as she poured her story COMMICOOOKS .€@ im