The Argosy, June 1904 — page 29: what you’re looking at

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

A DESPERATE DEAL. D515 “T am in my wife’s room,” said Hill grimly to himself. ‘“ And she is being carricd away to escape me.” An elegant inlaid desk stood near a wina~y. Upon it lay several books and papers, as though they had been gath- ered together for the purpose of being taken away, and then forgotten. One was a Russia-leathered book which the American husband picked up and opened. “Oh!” he said. On the fly-leaf he found aritten the words: Diary of Marie Hill, His heart thrilled. She had used his name, then, this beautiful girl whom he had tried to serve in his last moments, as he supposed. She had called her- self his wife—she was his wife. He opened the book, and through a feeling of delicacy read nothing until he found a date that struck him as one that might lead to some discovery. “7 am in “digtresa,” so ran the entry. “T live with the handsome face of Mon- sieur Hill ever before me. I wonder always if he had proper care when the last moments came. Though I saw him but once, I feel that 1 could love him if he lived. J wish I could have been with him at the last. It would relieve this terrible feeling of doubt. Some- times I wonder if, after all, he died.” Then farther on he found this: ‘“* My uncle seems kind and good, but there is something in his manner I do not understand. Ile never chides me, he never objects to anything I want. All my whims are gratified. But— those cold eyes seem to hold something in them I do not understand. ‘“ After all, J am more afraid of Al- fred than of my uncle. He is almost always under the influence of wine. Last night he tried to kiss me, and I struck him and ran to my room. I can- not love him now. If only the image of that white face on the pillow would fade away! But will it ever? I fear not. I begin now to wish my hushand had lived. My life at the chateau is not so pleasant. It is very lonelv.” le skipped to the last. “¥t is now June thirtieth. What a night—I shall never forget it! My PRODUCED BY UNZ.ORG CoOmiclbook heart is filled with misery, and yet | smile because I must. My uncle says my period of mourning is over. Mourn- ing—for what? A dream! A chimera! A face I saw but onee! But oh, what a manly face! I know that with my husband I could be happy. But that is not to be. 1 am to marry Alfred, and I shudder at the very thought. “A drunken husband! A husband who has tasted all the evils of life. One who brings me not the first love of his hfe, nor the second, but perhaps the dregs left after a hundred amours. Oh, I wish now I had remained in Lon- don and permitted my fortune to go to the hospitals. Surely I could go as nurse. Anything would be better than this. “1 feel the irons of my uncle’s eyes binding me more and more. He is kind, but there is a subtlety about him that terrifies me. I wish my husband was alive. He was an American, and would at least protect me, if he did not love me. And to-morrow we start for our trip in the Elftw~ It was my only hope. I should have gone mad if | remained here. . “Perhaps some escape will appear— I pray God it may. I do not love mv cousin—lI despise him. God! If he ever saw this book he certainly would kill me. But I have no one to talk to, and my thoughts must in some way permit themselves to escape.” “Poor girl!” said Hill. “ Poor little prisoner! I'll take good care he never sees this book, and (1 take better care he never marries vou, my dear little girl. I begin to love you now, though I have seen you but once. Hanged i! I don’t begin to believe in thought tclegraphy. We are beginning to love each other.” He took the diary and walked calmly out of the chateau. eee CHAPTER XI. A MEETING IN ALGIERS. LIEUTENANT JouRNIER was saunter- ing along one of the principal streets of Algiers, with that swing and con- scious air so characteristic of officers in that capital, looking now. and then ELECTRONIC REPRODUCTION PROHIBITED CO