The Argosy — page 209: what you’re looking at

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

192 | Fohn Davidson. and there was so much eagerness in her tone that Mrs. Hattley, already sweeping haughtily away, shivered as if froma sudden chill. This was the very last time, she said to herself, that she should ever encourage Victoria in her mania. The young man had meanwhile sat down as requested ; a little surprised at the warmth of his reception. He had not merely, as Miss Egerton had said, a remarkable forehead—every one of his clear- cut, strongly-marked features was equally so. Just as Miss Egerton was making a hasty study of his profile, he turned and fastened his eyes—grey and steady and piercing—upon her. He had followed Mrs. Hattley, on his side also, with indifference ; and first the girl’s face and then her name had struck him. Of course this must be Mrs. Hattley’s sister—the beautiful Miss Egerton. Yes; and she was very beautiful. Meanwhile Miss Egerton had made her hurried study ; and now launched headlong into conversation just as any other young lady, not a physiognomist, might have done. ‘What a very disagreeable town Bremingly is,” she remarked. The grey eyes, which had been softening into an unconscious smile, suddenly clouded. Mr. John Davidson knew all about the views Mrs. Hattley had as to Bremingly and its people; and, of course, Miss Egerton was her sister. ‘‘T am sorry you think so,” he answered, gravely. He was sorry ; he had been remarking what a frank, sympathetic expression the girl had, and it struck him as remarkable that she should hold the same narrow view as Mrs. Hattley. She noticed the change of expression in the eyes, and understood the reason for it. ‘Oh, but I was only alluding to the smoke, you know,” she explained, laughing a little; ‘‘and even to that in a general sense. In the particular case of Mr. Hattley’s tallest chimney at the manu- factory, I rather admire it. I can see the top of that chimney in the distance from my bedroom window, over the trees of the garden. I always rose early abroad, and I have not got out of the habit yet; and when I am dressed I sit down on the window-sill and meditate upon the white smoke rising out of that tall red chimney up to the blue, quiet sky. Oh, yes, I was not thinking of what I said. Iam very fond of Bremingly.” He kept his eyes fixed on her intently; he could not decide whether or not she was laughing at him. ‘A very good subject for meditation it might prove to you or to any- one. It ought to touch your human sympathies, you know, by making you think of all the deft, patient fingers busy at work at the looms below; and, to move the artistic side of your nature, there is the thought of the looms themselves.” She bent forward eagerly. ‘‘I know I am very hard-hearted, but I seem to lose all recollection of the people just in that very thought ECONNIELIOOKS, EO) m