The Argosy, Vol. 61, No. 4 — page 124: what you’re looking at

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

682 last night that I pride myself on being able to read faces. I read misery, pain, recklessness, even wild gaiety, in yours. But no crime, nor ‘trace of baseness. You are an honest man, whatever your misfortunes. If you have come within the scourge of the law, it is for misfor- tune, not’ for crime. That is why I offer you my aid. “For that and—and because—oh, why can’t I be truthful even to myself? It isn’t for that reason I help you. And I don’t know why I do. I know I should not do as much for any man in distress whom I chanced to meet. There is something about youw—there was some- thing about you from the first — that affects me as I never before was affected by any one. I don’t know what it is. But I could not even hate you last night, though I tried to—oh, so hard! And to-day, I knew you before I saw your face. Why do I talk this way,” she ended with a helpless gesture, ‘‘ and why do I feel this way?” I was tongue-tied. The utter inno- cence of the speech was as childlike as her own stature. Not a hint of co- quetry, of love, of any kindred senti- ment. Merely faint tfouble over an emotion which she could not understand. And, in the face of such marvelous simplicity, I felt as though in the pres- ence of something holy. Scarce knowing what I did, I dropped to one knee, there in the snowy road, and kissed the little hand that had been unconsciously outstretched toward me. Then I rose, and again our eyes met. This time in a long, wordless, fathom- less look that sent the hot blood surging to my head, while it left her own dainty, high-bred face deadly pale. With a quick sigh, as of one suddenly awakened, she turned and walked back to the carriage; I following her, mov- ing as one in a dream. When she addressed the wondering servants, her sweet voice was level and devoid of tremor, ‘“* Bates,” she said, “ you will go back to Miss Dows’s, and ask her if I left my serpent bracelet. on her dressing- table there last night after dinner. Ask for another pass at the provost-mar- shal’s, and come directly on to German- town. Grimes, this man will take Bates’s THE ARGOSY. place on the box. Drive as rapidly as you can, to make up for the time we have lost.” Without srother word, or a look in my direction, she stepped into the coach before I could spring forward to help her. I climbed onto the box, beside the gaping Grimes, and we set off. At the guard-house we were halted. A stout captain rode to the coach-door. At sight of Miriam, he rolled out of the saddle with all speed, and bowed before her with an air of exaggerated gallantry. In a trice I had recognized him as the man in the peachblow coat who had so hotly pursued me in my flight from the Mischianza. I turned my head the other way and became absorbed in the scenery. Meantime, amid many florid compli- ments, he was glancing carelessly over the proffered pass. “Miss Dacre, coachman and foot- man,’ he _ repeated absent-mindedly, handing it back. ‘‘ Quite so. You see, Miss Dacre, we have to be doubly care- ful this morning. Every pass must be closely scanned, and persons who are unknown to the officer of the guard must be detained. Fortunate, is it not, that I have the delight of knowing you? But any officer in the whole citv knows you by sight, and would die for the chance of even so brief a word with you as this. This morning, when I was de- tailed to the West Road post, I cursed my luck. But now I see it was my red- letter day. I scarce looked for such a joyous break in this morning’s police duty. So I thank my stars that—” ‘Police duty?” said she. “I fear I don’t understand. Since when have his majesty’s officers been detailed as con- stables? Ig it a new general order?” “No,” he answered; “but, you see, I saw the fellow last night, and the gen- eral sent me here because I’d be likely to recognize him again, even if he was in disguise. This is the road, of course, he’ll be most likely to take. Egad! If you could have seen poor Harvey Dig- by’s face. ‘Twas as good as a stage play.” Sir Harvey Digby?” she repeated: ‘What is amiss with him?” “Good saints!” ejaculated the cap- EO OO (©