The Argosy — page 385: what you’re looking at

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

362 A Love Story. “ Nothing against her, so you need not look so ferocious, Hugh. Only this; that a little more than three years ago: it must have been just before she came up to town on the occasion you just now told me of: I asked herto be my wifeand she refused me. In the gentlest manner possible, it is true, and with apparent pain and regret; but she had never looked upon me except as a friend, and gave me to understand this so clearly and so decidedly, that I felt that the best thing I could do would be to try and forget my love for her. ‘That was why I went abroad. It has taken three years, you see,” he added, with a forced attempt at gaiety ; ‘‘ but still I can’t be expected to dance at her wedding, you know. And now, old fellow, good- night. And once more, good luck to you. Believe me, you have my best wishes for your happiness.” But Ferrers went away with an aching heart. In spite of his faint endeavours to conceal his feelings, he had not succeeded in forgetting his old love. Indeed, he had found this so impossible that he had returned to England bent on seeking her out, and—if she were still free—of pressing his suit again. ‘Tull this moment he had cherished a strong hope, and now to be asked to assist at her marriage to his oldest and dearest and most intimate friend! It was too much. The next week saw the name of the Honourable Courtenay Ferrers added to the list of passengers by a steamer which was To sail away, on the following day, For the land of the Great Mogul. ee ee MORS IN VITA. THE spring-tide glory flows in gracious streams Of golden sunshine and soft silv’ry rain ; All nature freed from winter’s icy chain, Smiles ’neath the west wind’s kiss, the radiant beams, Till new life wakes around! and yet it seems The joy of spring but adds more bitter pain To weary, aching hearts, which sigh in vain For the lost love they clasp but in the world of dreams : Above whose grassy grave the soft breeze sighs, The flow’rets bloom, the sweet bird-carols ring : Yet, all unheeding, cold and quiet lies The love with whom all earthly joy took wing. Patience, sad heart! beyond the azure skies Thy darling lives, in Heaven’s Eternal Spring ! EK. M. A. CONNICLIOOKS. EO) m