The Argosy, Vol. XXV, No. 3 — page 57: what you’re looking at

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

THE LAST WAGER. 44 purple veins stood out on brow and neck like those of an outdone horse. Advancing toward the woman with outstretched fist, as though to strike, he eried : " ‘You dare stand there and say this to me—that you loved Tom Delaney ! Woman, you dare?’”’ She stood ‘facing him, calm and unflinching, ‘' Yes, even though you were to send me before God ‘this night, I would be glad to go with the words on my lips. Tom was the only man I truly loved; I love him yet, though I know not whether he is dead or alive ; _ though I may never see him again this side of death’s valley. My boy and the love I had for this man were the only things that made life worth the living. Now, do your worst!’ Before the sublime look ‘that lit up the worn face—the face that had once been couuted the prettiest in that old New England town—the man’s wild mood grew tame ; his hand dropped slowly to his side. So let it be. I don’t suppose you got much good out of your love. You are too big a coward for that! Iam not afraid of a dead mau, or a live one either, so far as your love goes. But it might have pleased you better if you had not taken up with me, out of spite, because of that little love quarrel you two had before I came along. You gals like to cut off your noses. You night be happy and rusty in musty old Milltown now, i. a ‘Hush !’’ entreated the woman. ‘It is not for you to discuss my dead past. It was clean when I came to you, it has ever been clean, and I doubt if the good Lord can blame a woman for loving a good man, no matter whether she be married to a wicked one % ‘‘ You’re welcome to all you can sneak in that quarter,’’ he retorted, picking up his old hat from under the chair ; then he turned to her, with grim mirth shining in his bloodshot eyes and flickering around his snarling mouth, as he added, ‘‘ Well, I’m going to try my luck again, I suppose you won't object if I bet the cabin and the claim and—+he boy ?”? She shot up from her seat; her eyes flashed, anger and pain fought in her fleeting expressions, as she faced the man before her. | ‘You dare—you dare wager my boy, as Trot Jones wagered his, to put him in service for five years! You dare, and I'll kill you and kill the man before I’d let my boy, my baby, go!” The man gave a laughing growl, as he banged the door after him. ‘Then poor Anne’s courage gave way; she sank on the floor in a miserable heap, moaning and sobbing, going over and over again every wretched scene in the tragedy that stretched itself over those dozen years past. Seeing his father depart, the boy stole into the living room again. Kneeling on the floor beside his weeping mother, he attempted to raise her to her feet, speak- ing to her as she might speak to him, weaving out happy dreams, as he tried to soothe her. | ‘‘ Don’t, ‘mother, don’t ! Don’t cry. I’ll fight for you when I grow big. Pll take care of you, mother, and we will have a nice, little house, with roses and honeysuckles all over it, like your old home. We'll go back East, out of this bad land, and I’ll make you happy, dear mother, indeed I will——_—” Eomichbooks (S@)