The Argosy — page 21: what you’re looking at

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

8 | Lady Grace. While at dinner he told them, jokingly as he had told Edith, that the parish wanted him to marry. Lady Avon remarked, in answer, that he could not do better; parsons and doctors should always be married men. ‘Ves, that’s very right, very true,” he returned, in the same jesting tone. ‘* But suppose they have nothing to marry upon ?” ‘ But you have something, Mr. Baumgarten.” “Ves, I have two hundred a year; and no residence.” “The Rectory is rather bad, I believe.” * Bad! Well, Lady Avon, you should see it.” “Mr. Dane ought not to have allowed it to get into that state,” she remarked ; and the subject dropped. After dinner Mr. Baumgarten stood on the lawn with Grace, watching the glories of the setting sun. Lady Avon, indoors, was beginning to doze ; they knew better than to disturb her; this after- dinner sleep, which sometimes did not last more than ten minutes, was of great moment to her, the doctor said. And indeed it was so: when she did not get it, she invariably had a restless night, the over- . tired brain not suffering her to sleep. She took it in the dining-room ; only moving to the drawing-room when she awoke. Great ceremony was not observed at Avon House. Six or eight servants comprised the indoor household, for the Countess’s jointure was extremely limited. The Avon peerage was not a rich one. Mr. Baumgarten had held out his arm to Lady Grace in courtesy as they began to pace the paths, and she took it. They came toa halt near the entrance gate, both gazing at the beautiful sky, their hands partially shading their eyes from the blaze of sunset, when a little man dressed in black with a white neck-tie was seen approaching. ‘Why, here comes Moore!” exclaimed Grace. He was the clerk at Great Whitton Church. Limping up to the gate, for he was lame with rheumatism, he stood there and looked at Mr. Baumgarten, as if his business lay with him. But Grace, with- drawing her arm from her companion, was first at the gate. ‘TI beg pardon, my lady, I thought it right to come up and inform the Countess of the sad news—and I’m glad I did, seeing you here, sir. Mr. Chester is gone, my lady.” ‘Gone !” exclaimed Grace. ‘‘ Gone where?” ** He is dead, my lady—he is dead, sir. Departed to that bourn whence no traveller returns,” continued the clerk, wishing to be religiously impressive and believing he was quoting from Scripture. Surely it cannot be!” said Mr. Baumgarten. ‘Ay, but it is, sir, more’s the pity. And frightfully sudden. After getting home from afternoon service, he said he felt uncommonly tired, he couldn’t think why, and that he’d not have his tea till later in the evening. He went up to his room and sat down in the easy chair there and dropped asleep. A sweet, tranquil sleep it was, to all appearance, and Mrs. Chester shut the door and left him. But comliclbooks. corn