Penny Dreadfuls, 1890 · page 42 of 297
Weaker than a Woman — page 42: what you’re looking at
A restored page from Penny Dreadfuls, 1890. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Vie ax - ue - = * ?. , > - |] ~ 7 ~~ va? ~, — DP © =. t 7 >" * * war - ee nl aes © a } 1 . Pl ih “~e * a é s < «3 7 2 + Vero at Pt kv... ny we @ - ‘ 6 < ey ~ a Aa —_ - —_ « 5 Sans a ; oe ’ - “~~ 2 4 ew e” re : e ; / Fig A £ r ~ Sn a _ > Pdi ae A Ol fal,4 ; : Py. oF is ee? ag w J * * ~ a X - > ~~ Oe row < Gh» : : : > as <«. ‘ . “~~ : ‘ * . ‘ a ~ . WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. °° 83 fanciful,” he said to himself; “and what tangible evil have I to grasp ?” There was nothing but a cloud of fancies; his prospects were bright enough. He said to himself over and over again that no one was so fortunate. Had he not a partner- ship? Had he not a certainty of calling the loveliest girl in the county his wife? What had he to fear? Yet what was the strange dull pain that made his brave young heart fail him? What caused the strange shuddering that came over him? Why had hea keen and penetrating, a vague indefinite feeling of an evil day to come? He tried to re- press it; he could understand women being nervous, but not men. | | For the first time he noticed that night a look of anxiety _ on his father’s face, and he asked what had brought it — there. “Shadows—nothing but shadows; fancies—troublesome fancies,” was the reply; yet it was strange the son turned away with a feeling almost of despair. Nor was the mystery lessened when on the day following, Mrs. Lonsdale, going on her daily round of shopping, met the vicar’s wife, Mrs. Hunter, who stopped to speak to her. “This is a very sad affair, Mrs. Lonsdale,” she said, and Kate, looking at her, asked quietly what affair she meant. She looked so entirely unconscious that the vicar’s wife was surprised: “Have you heard no bad news of—of—any one?” she asked, and Kate answered, “ No.” Then Mrs. Hunter related some trifling little story, and even as she related it Kate told herself that she was in- venting it. With her honest, straightforward eyes she looked at the vicar’s lady. “You are not telling me what was in your mind when you first spoke to me,” she said. “What were you think- ing of, Mrs. Hunter?” But Mrs. Hunter, after laughingly parrying the remark, hastily said good-morning in avery embarrassed fashion, and walked away. Mrs. Hunter’s remark could mean nothing; yet the heart of the loving, anxious wife grew heavy within her. Sad news? What sad news could there be affecting her or hers? And, if there was sad news about any one else, why could -she not have said what it was? She was the third who went home that day with a terri- ble sense of foreboding. Her pretty house seemed almost _ to oppress her, She wished that she had not burdened her, (eo paiicel exeve) <3 Eo am