The Argosy — page 195: what you’re looking at

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

Lady Grace. 181 ** Don’t you care for me, Gertrude ?” he continued, sadly. ‘Can- not you care for me?” And, what with surprise, perplexity and agitation, Miss Baum- garten lost all her dignity, and burst into tears. Somehow he did not regard it as a bad omen. Perhaps he was an expert at interpreting signs and tokens. However that might be, he put his arm round her and drew her gently to him. “My darling!” he whispered with impassioned fervour. “I see that you will not send me away.” And Gertrude bent her face still lower as she murmured : ‘Perhaps you have not heard?—Mary Dynevor and Charles— their engagement is broken off.” He gathered her meaning at once. ‘* Gertrude, don’t you know me better than that?” he rejoined. “Did you not know, did you not see in the past days, that it was not Mary Dynevor I loved, but you? When you refused me, refused even to listen to a word I would have spoken, I turned to Mary in—I fear I must say it—vexation of soul. My dear, why did you treat me soP” Should she ever be able to tell him? Not yet, at any rate. She had mistaken his frequent visits to the sick daughter of a lady staying in the place, friends of her own and of Lady Grace. A foolish, gossiping woman had whispered to Gertrude that Mr. Wilmot was paying so much attention to this young sick lady that their engage- ment was an absolute certainty. Gertrude believed it, and became at once so resentfully jealous that when Mr. Wilmot, not long afterwards, spoke to her, in her pride she retaliated upon him with indignation. No, she could not tell him all this to-day, or speak of the sore repentance which had ever since lain upon her. She drew herself to the end of the bench, put her hat on decorously, and essayed to converse upon indifferent topics: the beauty of the day, the scent of the lilac, the song of the birds. “Do you see that laburnum?” she asked, scarcely knowing what she said. “Tt is my favourite tree; the most beautiful of all trees; the most graceful of all blossoms.” “Yes,” he replied ; ‘I almost agree with you. The country people call it ‘gold chain’ down with us,” he added, smiling. “Down with you?” “In the county where my home is; the fairest county in the heart of England. Soon to be your home also, I hope, Gertrude. My darling, may the chains that bind our future lives together be as fair and golden as those of your favourite blossom.” ** Does Uncle Henry know you are here?” she suddenly asked. “ Why, of course he does. I was with him for half-an-hour before ihe went out.” , ‘“‘T wonder he did not tell me you were here.” “He no doubt thought he would leave it for me to tell you. I comicbooks.com