The Argosy — page 223: what you’re looking at

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

Recollections of a Governess. 207 could, gone ! and so suddenly. He rode so well, and was so fearless ; but a Captain Mortimer, who had won much money from the poor boy, had bet a large sum against his being able to ride a vicious horse that no one could master round the parade ground. Edward took the bet ; he ad get him round the parade-ground, and then, in triumph, put him at a high railing. The animal swerved sud- denly, became unmanageable, and threw him: his head came violently against the curbstone, and he never spoke again.- In his pocket was a memorandum :—“If I’m thrown, write to James Crayford, Manor House, Wernbury. Send the money to my father.” She stayed some hours with us. Lady Dacre asked if she was not astonished her father had borne the blow so calmly. Helen had noticed in general he took things very quietly now. The little outbreak on hearing of her engagement was soon over, and it was the last. His memory is failing. We all see it better than poor Lady Dacre herself. The mother will feel her son’s death the most. If the news had come a week sooner, would Helen have kept her engagement ? The thought torments me. The carriage came for her, and I saw her look wistfully round the room. ‘I suppose I must go now,” she said ; and in a whisper, as she kissed me, “ If it could have been me, instead of poor Edward !” NVov. 16.—Helen was in church to-day, a bridein deep mourning, I went to see her yesterday. Everything is beautiful about her, and Mr. Crayford evidently much attached. I do trust his devotion may make her happier in time. But she found he had the letter telling of poor Edward’s death on the 24th, before their marriage—just what I fancied— and he kept it from her for a few days, he said, until he had further particulars, Coonach never growls at him now, I was glad to hear: he seems to feel Mr. Crayford and he have changed places, and that Ae is the visitor. But Mr. Crayford cannot get over his dislike to him ; it is a sort of curious antipathy he has to all dogs ; and yet he is very fond of horses. I saw he did not approve of Coonach always being close by Helen, sometimes on the couch beside her, and I really gave him credit for submitting to it so readily. She never moves but the poor dog fol- lows her. February 26th, 1838.—Nothing written since November. The year 1837 gone, and a new year well commenced. Shadows deepening round Sir William. My last words in November, I see, were about poor Coonach, and now I begin by recording his sad end. I was staying a few days with Helen, and one morningI heard Mr. Crayford’s voice loud and very angry. He generally was so imperturbable, I was astonished. He was coming in from the stables, and my room looked that way. I heard him say, “‘ Have it done at once.” A horrid thing an angry man is. I was glad Helen could_not(see him from her windows. Half an hour after I saw Helen’s footman run to the stab bles. COmicoookks.cO