The Argosy — page 110: what you’re looking at

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

The Story of Charles Strange. 93 ran to meet me in the passage, and we had a spell of kissing. I think she was then about fourteen; perhaps fifteen. A fair, up- right, beautiful girl, with the haughty blue eyes of her childhood, and a shower of golden curls. “Oh, Charley, Iam so glad! I thought you were never, never coming to us.” “TI did not know you were here until last night. You should have sent me word.” ‘‘T told mamma so; but she was not well. She is not well yet. The journey tired her, you see, and the sea was rough. Come up- stairs and see her, Charley. Papa has just gone out.” Mrs. Carlen sat over the fire in the drawing-room in an easy chair, a shawl upon her shoulders. It was a dull evening, twilight not far off, and she sat with her back to the light. It struck me she looked thin and ill. I had been over once or twice to stay with them in Brussels ; the last time, eighteen months ago. “Are you well, mamma?” I asked as she kissed me—for I had not left off calling her by the fond old childhood’s name. ‘‘ You don’t look so.” “‘ The journey tired me, Charley,” she answered—just as Blanche had said to me. ‘‘I havea little cold, too. Sit down, my boy.” ** Have you come back here for good ?” I asked. ** Well yes, I suppose so,” she replied with hesitation. ‘‘ For the present, at all events.” Tea was brought in. Blanche made it; her mother kept to her chair and her shawl. The more I looked at her, the greater grew the conviction that something beyond common ailed her. Major Carlen was dining out, and they had dined in the middle of the day. Alas! I soon knew what was wrong. After tea, contriving to get tid of Blanche for a few minutes on some plausible excuse, she told me all. An inward complaint was manifesting itself, and it was hard to say how it might terminate. The Belgian doctors had not been very reassuring upon the point. On the morrow she was going to consult James Paget. “Does Blanche know P” I asked. “Not yet. I must see Mr. Paget before saying anything to her. If my own fears are confirmed, I shall tell her. In that case I shall {ose no time in placing her at school.” ‘At school !” ‘“Why yes, Charley. What else can be done? This will be no home for her when I am out of it. Not at an ordinary school, though. I shall send her to our old home, White Littleham Rectory. Mr. and Mrs. Ravensworth are there still. She takes two or three pupils to bring up with her own daughter and will be glad of Blanche. ‘There—we will put that subject away for the present, Charley. I want to ask you about something else, and Blanche will soon be back again. Do you see much of Tom Heriot ?” COMICOOOKS.C© im