The Argosy — page 105: what you’re looking at

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

go The Village Blacksmith. finally relented, warning him that if she ever saw him in the neigh- bourhood again she would give him in charge. With this parting caution she rode off, followed by Lion, who deeply deplored his mistress’s clemency, and told her so as plainly as a dejected air and deprecating eyes could speak. Vera rode home quickly, thinking, as she went, of the excitement her adventure would cause on her return; thinking of her father’s fright and her stepmother’s wrath, and little dreaming of the very different scene which awaited her. For it is the unexpected which usually happens even when the expected has been unpleasant. Taking life all round, the disagreeable predominates over the agree- able, pain over pleasure, sorrow over joy; though there is a large amount of pleasure and of joy, too, on this side the grave, over- balanced though it be by pain and sorrow. On reaching the Rectory, Vera dismounted and ran into the. house in search of her father to tell him of the danger Lion had saved her from. She found Mr. Ryot-Tempest in his study, but not alone. His wife was with him, and both were looking so preter- naturally grave that Vera wondered what domestic calamity had taken place in her absence. She burst into the room like a sunbeam ; her pure, pale cheeks slightly flushed; her large, lustrous eyes sparkling with excitement; her lips eagerly parted, showing her pretty, pearly teeth ; her pale golden hair gleaming under her dark felt hat; her slender, graceful figure shown to perfection in her habit. She was very fair to look upon; there was no denying that, as her stepmother confessed with bitterness. ‘With whom have you been riding, Vera?” said Mrs, Ryot- Tempest coldly, before the girl could speak. ‘With Lion; Mr. Hastings could not go to-day,” replied Vera. “We know that, We also know the cause which prevented him, though I should hardly have imagined that even you would have spoken of it in that bold, heartless fashion,” said Mrs. Ryot- Tempest. “Bold” was about the last word to apply to Vera, whose manner was singularly free from all forwardness, erring, if at all, on the side of shyness. Indeed, the sweet, maidenly reserve which characterised her was one of her special charms; and the pure, delicate white of her complexion, and the childlike innocence of her dark eyes, were the index of that indescribable something, that quintessence of | purity, that reflection of a spotless soul which made the epithet | “Bold” a libelk Mr. Ryot-Tempest flinched as his wife used it, for it revealed to Vera what he had already discovered, namely, that in spite of an outward veneer which passed for refinement, there was a vein of coarseness in his new wife which grated against his really refined nature. “I merely stated a fact; the cause concerns no one but Mr. Flastings and myself,” said Vera haughtily, turning a shade paler. Eomichbooks.co