The Argosy — page 201: what you’re looking at

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

184 The Village Blacksmith. While awaiting their replies the Archdeacon went to Vera’s sitting- room to see if she had left any letter or message for him. He saw nothing of the kind on her writing-table or about the room, and finally he opened an old-fashioned, carved oak chest which had belonged to her mother, and there to his terror and amazement was the dress Vera had worn that morning, her collar and cuffs, a brooch and a pair of high-heeled shoes, all hastily thrown in. A terrible thought occurred to the Archdeacon on seeing these things. Was it possible that the girl, frightened out of her senses at the terrible trouble which had come so suddenly upon her, had committed suicide in a fit of temporary insanity? ‘There was the river and the mill-pool close by: had she jumped into either P Even so, why leave her shoes and dress at home? The Arch- deacon could not understand it. He sent for the two policemen and consulted them ; he sent men to drag the mill-pool and river ; he sent a second telegram to Captain Tempest asking him to come to him at once ; he sent messengers to all their neighbours inquiring if Vera had been seen that day, and he wandered about the house awaiting replies with a pulse beating furiously, a heart aching sorely, a conscience reproaching him bitterly for having left his child alone that morning. Messenger after messenger returned, but all with the same news: nothing had been heard or seen of Vera. Telegrams from Mrs, Canter and Captain Tempest said the same, and the Archdeacon was working himself into a state of nervous excitement verging on delirium when two telegrams were brought to him. The first he opened was from his brother, saying he would arrive that evening ; the second was from Vera, but it gave him very little information. ‘I am safe,” was all it said, and it was given in at a London post- office two hours before he received it. No sooner had he read it than he ordered his pony and rode down to the station to inquire what passengers had left by the mid-day train. “Only one person,” was the reply ; “one of the nuns from the convent, and she had taken a ticket for London.” This news disconcerted the Archdeacon at first, but as he rode home meditating upon it a light broke upon him, and having put two and two together he arrived at the conclusion that they made four. In other words, he guessed what had happened to Vera, but he resolved to keep his own counsel ; at any rate until he had consulted his solicitor, whom he expected shortly ; and he hoped between them they would hit on some plan by which he could offer bail for Vera’s appearance without revealing her hiding-place. The lawyer arrived in time for dinner, which for the sake of keep- ing up appearances before the servants the Archdeacon took with his wife, but it was by no means a lively repast. The lawyer, who knew Vera well, was too much worried by what he saw would be a difficult Gomilcbooks.co