The Argosy — page 52: what you’re looking at

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

The Five Mr. Fyttons. 39 broken apology, and planning out how she would act in either case. But as day after day went by, and neither he nor his letter put in an appearance, the spoilt girl’s spirit began to waver, and she fre- quently gave way to tears. And where was Lawrence Tanfield? He walked over to Burnham, ordered a conveyance, and getting his luggage packed, went home to Hampshire. He stayed there for a little time with his father, and, having explained that he was in need of change, went abroad, and, for a long time was not heard of. Some said he had entered a foreign service; others that he had joined a monastery in Spain. Meanwhile Evelyn, saddened and depressed, still remained un- married, though suitor after suitor came to try his luck. I suppose it must have been about two years later, when honest, open-hearted Hal Fytton again proposed to her. To his intense surprise and delight, he was accepted. “‘T cannot love you,” said Evelyn; ‘ but if you will be content with a weary woman’s respect and honest liking, [ll do the best I can to make you happy.” Poor Hal! All the country round was not big enough to hold him. With what honest pride he spoke about his sweetheart—the sweet- heart he had never dared to kiss. That reticence was not the way to win her; certainly not a woman of her nature—frozen and petri- fied as it had now become. But, poor fellow, he knew no better, and thought, with so many others, that timidity showed respect and devotion. Had you told him that something a little more reckless ‘ and devil-may-care, even though at times liable to give offence, would in the end outdistance any feeble wooing, he would not have believed it; or if he had, he would have been quite incapable of practising it. One cannot teach these things. ‘Teach a sheep to all eternity, he will never learn to roar. So matters stood, and the engaged couple seemed on the one side fairly content, on the other deliriously happy. At Christmas, old Mr. O’Brien determined to celebrate his daughter’s engagement by a ball, to which all the people round about who were *‘anyone in particular ” were invited. It was a fancy dress ball, and masks were optional. Hal led off the first dance with Evelyn. He engaged her for many more. The old ball-room was crowded. Over two hundred and fifty people, in every variety of dress, thronged the place. Wine, music, and beautiful faces all combined to make the hearts of hosts and guests as happy as they could be. In the intervals of the dances, speculation was rife as to who this person was, who that—alluding to anyone specially well disguised. There was a knight in armour, a jester, a mountebank, and dozens more. But as Hal Fytton walked round the end of the room under COMICOOOKS.c© mm