The Argosy — page 161: what you’re looking at

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

146 Many Waters Quench not Love. His friend rejoined him, and the carriage drove on. It was “adieu pour jamais” between them now. But when the last sight of him was lost, she covered her face with her trembling hands and murmured forth : ‘Thank God! Ah, so much, much better than the meeting I had hoped for and so often planned. What Heaven gives comes always mystical with satisfaction. What could we have done if we had spoken of it all, but mingle our tears and pierce each other’s soul once more with unavailing regrets? Better for us both to be spared it. But oh! my love, my love! true to me, I know and feel it; only parted by our own mad pride and folly! Weare calm enough now! We have both grown old, very old, my dear; but it has been together, although apart. If your brow had been smooth as I re member it, and your locks raven as when I saw them last, I could not have claimed you for my own as I donow. We should have parted company ¢/ez ; but zow we are one—we were young together, we are old together, and the tie of mutual age has a sacredness in it which nothing can disturb. And then, when this last, brief portion of our life is over, we shall meet at last, my love, without a tear, young, and perfected, and blest for ever in the kingdom of God.” Again her tears streamed forth. Excitement and weakness had shaken her self-control to its foundations ; and for a few moments of rare indulgence she did not stem their flow. Only for a few moments, however, for aged eyes cannot weep long. When Laura came back, Aunt Dorothy had returned to perfect calmness, and greeted her with a smile that had conquered sorrow. This girl was certainly growing more and more kindly-natured from contact with her aunt. She said, quite gently now: “Was he greatly altered, Auntie? . You must have seen much change in him, I fear.” “T knew him,” returned her aunt. And then, after a pause: ‘‘He was my lover for many years, and I never loved but him. Only, mis- fortune, chiefly of our own making, rash and foolish that we were, came between us.” ‘You are very white, Aunt Dorothy. Had you not better, after all this, let me bring you some wine ?” “No, my child, nothing. Leave me here alone a little while longer, for I want to rest, and may God bless you and make you truly His.” Laura looked at her aunt half-frightened at the solemnity of the words and tone; but already Aunt Dorothy had turned from her and was gazing abstractedly on the moor, where the gorse and broom caught from the sunset blood-red reflections, that rippling like waves over their surface, left shadows of deep purple in between. When she was alone: “I have had a very happy life,” said Aunt Dorothy; “although some things were denied, and the greatest joy CONMICLMOOOKS.e©) m