The Argosy — page 303: what you’re looking at

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

282 A Little Maid, an Old Maid and the Major. them, with a weary, suppressed sigh, drew a letter from his pocket. The address was written very large and stared Maud in the face, ‘* Major Murdoch, 7, Cedar Terrace, W.” Maud gave a great start, and one of her many packages slipped to the ground. She stooped to raise it; and Major Murdoch half mechanically stooped also. He held the letter open now in his hand, and Maud could not help seeing the first line, although she dropped her eyes hastily with a feeling of absolute guilt. She thanked him for his politeness with a strange thrill in her voice that made him glance at her for the first time. He saw a pale, sweet wistful little face, with one really beautiful feature in it—a pair of lovely, steadfast blue eyes. They looked at him for a second, then glanced away ; but they were fuller of interest and compassion than their owner knew, and Major Murdoch felt slightly troubled. The dusky colour flushed to his cheek as it occurred to him that she had perhaps caught sight of his letter, with its rude opening words which had hurt him like a blow. He did not like to be pitied—no really true and manly nature ever does— and suspecting Maud of such a feeling he felt a shade annoyed with her, but not nearly so much so as if she had been a man—or even an ugly woman. He looked at her again to strengthen his distaste— and the recipe signally failed. Her eyes were fixed on vacancy, but their expression was just as lovely as before—thoughtful, a little mournful, courageous, strangely sweet. He rose abruptly. It was not nearly time for his train to leave, but he decided to await its starting on the platform. He again raised his hat; but with his eyes firmly downcast. He was de- termined not to take another glance at his neighbour, and adhered to this determination until he reached the door. Then his eyes were drawn backwards by an irresistible power, and his last look as he vanished met a parting one from Maud Carleton. She sighed as he went away. “Tt would have been unheard of to speak to him, of course, but I wish I could have ventured,” she thought. ‘There are other Murdochs in the world than Jack’s, and I daresay many of the name are home on leave at the same time.” Her meditations continued throughout her short and rapid journey to the pretty village where she dwelt. It was a sweet little nook, very full of roses in the summer, and planted with cherry and apple orchards that filled the air with fragrance throughout May and June. A brief walk through these orchards brought you to a wood, where it was pleasant to sit in sunny weather and vainly look for the ever- present, ever-invisible cuckoo. Leafy lanes led past rich meadows, where the kine lay sleeping in the shadow cast by noble oaks and elms. ‘The red-roofed cottages were overgrown with nodding roses, with purple clematis or crimson creeper, according to the season. There was a charming old grey church, with square Norman tower, ECORNIECLOOKS .~E© m