The Argosy — page 207: what you’re looking at

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

Igo The Village Blacksmith. ‘Vou think Vera was walking in her sleep, then?” ‘Think, sir! I am sure of it. She has done it from a child; for years I tied her into her bed every night.” ‘Toes anyone else know this, Norah ?” “ Only Mr. Rex, sir, as faras I know. I told him before he left England, and very glad I am I did too; and if I were you, Mr. Tempest, I should telegraph for Mr. Rex to come over at once. He might be of some use, for they tell me that scamp, Mark, has got a summons out against Miss Vera.” “Tt is true; and unfortunately the evidence is in his favour; but that is not the worst, Norah. I have to drain the cup even to the dregs it seems. Mrs. Ryot-Tempest believes that Vera has stolen her diamonds, and she intends to prosecute her.” And the Arch- deacon leant back in his chair as if this confession had utterly exhausted him. It is difficult to say by what process the feminine mind ever arrives at a logical conclusion. It would be impossible to say by what pro- cess Mrs. Canter evoked the conclusion she now arrived at from the premises given her; probably it was arrived at by some law of con- traries, since no logical law could have given it. This was her conclusion, spoken aloud with much emphasis: ‘IT don’t believe the diamonds are stolen at all.” ‘Nonsense, Norah ; the diamonds are gone; the empty case was picked up in the shrubbery; there is no doubt whatever on that point, and unfortunately Vera’s sudden flight only encouraged Mrs. Ryot-Tempest in her suspicions. It is a terrible trial; a terrible trial.” And the Archdeacon nodded his head slowly and sadly as he reiterated his complaint. ‘Ah! sir, so I said, when Canter was taken; troubles are like new clothes; they fidget and worry you and you think you'll never be able to wear them, but it is surprising how quickly you get accus- tomed to them. No matter how big the trouble, it soon passes ; it is all the same fifty years hence ; like life, it is soon over.” «¢ What is it all but a trouble of ants in the gleam of a million million of suns,’ eh Norah?” quoted the Archdeacon, with the ghost of a smile. ‘Trouble of ants, sir; Lord bless you, ants have no troubles ; they have no time for troubles, they are too busy; animals area deal happier than men and women.” ‘‘T am busy too, Norah ; I have more work than I know how to get through with ; but I have time to feel this trial acutely,” said the Archdeacon. Once more Mrs. Canter had recourse to words to conceal her thoughts. Her thoughts were :—This will be the death of Mr. Tempest, as sure as [ am a living woman. Her words were, ‘‘ Don’t you fret about it, sir; it will all come CONNIE KOO <Sneorna