The Argosy — page 341: what you’re looking at

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

318 An Inherited Husband, man. No doubt a man of five-and-thirty or thereabouts has had time to single out someone whom he would like to marry ; but had it been so he would have told grandpapa of it.” “But since his death, Edith >—A few months are quite long enough — to ) ‘Then I repeat that in that case he is no good man.” “No, Edith ; you don’t see it as clearly as I do. He could like someone else, and yet be obliged to marry me/ He is no longer a free agent. If he attempts to do right in one way he does wrong in another. If he pleases himself, he robs me. The position is a dead- lock.” | How often had Mrs. Trench gone over the same arguments! She revered her grandfather’s memory too much to blame him; yet she was seriously uneasy, and longed to know personally something of this Mr. Barton. Unfortunately, just as she and her husband were to start for England, after their wedding tour, he contracted a bad cold and was forbidden to leave the warmer climate for some months. ‘You know, Grace ———” she began slowly. “It’s no use, Edith. It can’t be helped, and even if we hate the sight of each other ——” ‘‘'That’s nonsense, Grace! he is not in the least likely to hate the sight of you.” ‘That depends upon his taste ; and as for mine—perhaps he wears a wig and spectacles !” Mrs. Trench gladly hailed her change of tone, and laughed as she said: ‘*We know better than that. Did not Charlie find out that he was an active, professional man. He is not Methuselah, though he is older than you.” ‘“T know. But that is not everything. Just think, Edith, how many sorts of men there are whom one would vo¢ like for a husband. He might be red-haired and coarse-looking—he might be small and sleek and priggish—he might be as stout as Daniel Lambert, or have a nose like Punch. And then he may be jealous or tyrannical, or a mean and sordid wretch who got round dear grandpapa.” Mrs. Trench tried to stop her, but in vain, for the girl was talking with excitement. Yet, could she herself in all honesty have said that there was not a possibility of truth in her exaggerated words? While she was thinking of the best thing to say, she observed with relief and pleasure that Grace had taken unusual pains to make her sober dress look attractive. ‘‘That’s pretty, Grace. Have I seen that dress before?” Grace coloured and laughed ever so little, too. “Of course I have tried to make the best of myself. I hate the very thought of him, and when he comes and introduces himself to- day, I daresay I shall not be even civil to him. But he may as well think the best of his future wife. Good Heavens, Edith! what is he likely to do? and what shall I do?” ECORNIE KOOKS. CO