The Evil Genius: A Domestic Story — page 44: what you’re looking at

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

THE EVIL GENIUS. oo tails (as the reviews say), and a masterly anatomy of human motives which—— I know what I mean, my dear, but I can’t explain it.” ‘‘T think I understand, mamma. A masterly anatomy of human motives which is in itself a motive of human sleep. No; I won’t borrow your novel just now. Idon’twant to goto sleep; T am thinking of Herbert in London.” Mrs. Presty consulted her watch. ‘¢ Your husband is no longer in London,” she announced; ‘‘ he has begun his journey home. Give me the railway guide, and T’ll tell you when he will be here to-morrow. You may trust me, Catherine, to make no mistakes. Mr. Presty’s wonderful knowledge of figures has been of the greatest use to me in later life. Thanks to his instructions, I am the only person in the house who can grapple with the intricacies of our railway system. Your poor father, Mr. Ormond, never could understand time- tables, and never attempted to conceal his deficiencies. He had none of the vanity (harmless vanity, perhaps) which led poor Mr. Presty to express positive opinions on matters of which he knew nothing, such as pictures and music. What do you want, Malcolm ?” The servant to whom this question was addressed answered: “ A telegram, ma’am, for the mistress.” Mrs. Linley recoiled from the message when the man offered it to her. Not usually a very demonstrative person, the feeling of alarm which had seized on her only expressed itself in a sud- den change of color. ‘‘ An accident!” she said, faintly. ‘* An accident on the railway!” Mrs. Presty opened the telegram. ‘If you had been the wife of a cabinet minister,” she said to her daughter, ‘‘ you would have been too well used to telegrams to let them frighten you. Mr. Presty (who received his tele- grams at his office) was not quite just to the memory of my first husband. He used to blame Mr. Ormond for letting me see his telegrams. But Mr. Presty’s nature had all the poetry in which Mr. Ormond’s nature was deficient. He saw the angelic side of women, and thought telegrams and business and all that sort of thing unworthy of our mission. I don’t exactly understand what our mission is——” ‘‘Mamma! mamma! is Herbert hurt ?” ey Stuff and nonsense! Nobody is hurt; there has been no ac- cident.” ‘‘Then why does he telegraph to me ?” Hitherto Mrs. Presty had only looked at the message. She now read it through attentively to the end. Her face assumed an expression of stern disgust. She shook her head. ‘‘Read it yourself,” she answered; ‘‘and remember what I told you, when you trusted your husband to find a governess for mv grandchild. I said: ‘You don’t know men asIdo. I hope you may not live to repent it.’” Mrs. Linley was too fond of her husband to let this pass, ‘“Why shouldn’t I trust him?’ she asked. ‘‘ He was going to London on business, and it was an excellent opportunity.” COMMICLO® S (E() im