The Argosy — page 271: what you’re looking at

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

Edina. 255 Daisy was tormenting herself in a most unnecessary manner. Rosa- line Bell in London! Living near to them: close to them, he had said. He had seen her to-day, and yesterday as well: no doubt he saw her every day. No doubt he loved her, that Rosaline !—and had thrown off all affection for herself, his wife. What a frightful thing it was !—and how far had it gone ?—and what would it end in? After this, the ordinary fashion of a jealous woman, did Mrs. Frank Raynor reason ; believing her fancies to be all as true as gospel. Had some angelic messenger essayed to set her right, it would have availed naught in her present frame of mind. Jealousy is as much a disease as intermittent fever: it may have its lighter intervals, but it must run its course. , “ Daisy, I think we shall have a storm!” cried Frank. “ How still and hot the air is !—and look at that great black cloud coming up! We must put our best feet foremost.” Daisy silently acquiesced. And the pace they went at prevented much attempt at talking. So that he had no opportunity of noticing that she had suddenly lost her tongue. The storm burst forth when they were within a few doors of their own home. Lightning, thunder, a heavy down-pour of rain. As they turned into the surgery, where Sam stood underneath the gas light, his arms flat on the counter, his heels kicking about underneath it, Frank caught up a note that was lying there, addressed to him. “ Who brought this note ?” asked Frank as he read it. “It was a young lady,” replied Sam. ‘When I told her you were not at home, she asked me for a sheet o’ paper and pen and ink, and writ that, and said it were to be gave to you as soon as you came in. And, please, sir, they have been round twice from Tripp’s to say the baby’s worse.” Frank Raynor went out again at once, in spite of the storm. His wife, who had heard what passed, turned into the parlour, her brain hard at work. “IT wonder how long this has been going on !—how long she has been coming here?” debated Mrs. Frank, her cold fingers twitching with agitation, her hot head throbbing. “Se wrote that note—bare- faced thing! When she found she could not see him, she wrote it, and left it for him: and he is gone out to see her!” Jealousy in its way is as exciting as wine; acting very much in the same manner on any patient who is suitably primed for it. Mrs. Frank’s blood was surging in her veins; her thoughts were taking a wild turn ; her shaking fingers could hardly throw her bonnet off. In point of fact, the note concerned a worthy pork butcher, who feared he was sickening for some complaint ; and “the young lady,” his daughter, had written it, in preference to leaving a message, begging for Mr. Raynor’s speedy attendance. Or comicbooks.com