The Argosy — page 122: what you’re looking at

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

IIO Margaret Rymer. planets, I could not have been more surprised. ‘“ How did you get to know of it?” I asked. “Mr. Rymer told me on his death-bed. I was attending him spiritually. Of course, I have never spoken of it, even to my wife; I should not think of speaking of it: but I consider that it hes in my duty to disclose the facts to Mr. Sale.” “Oh, no, don’t—don’t, please, Mr. Tanerton !” I cried out, starting up in a sort of distress, for the words seemed to take hold of me. ‘‘No one knows of it: no one but the Squire, and I, as you say, and Mrs. Rymer, and you, and Ben himself: Jelf’s dead, you know. It need never be brought up again in this world; and I daresay it never will be. Pray don’t tell Mr. Sale—for Margaret's sake.” ‘‘ But I have said that I consider it my duty to tell him,” replied the parson, steadily. ‘‘ Here he comes!” I turned to the window, and saw Sale trudging up to the parsonage through the snowy field pathway, his black hair, and red, rugged face presenting a kind of contrast to the white glare around. Ugly, he might be called; but it was a face to be liked, for all that. And the ring of his voice was true and earnest. The affair, alluded to by the Rector, was this. Ben Rymer, who had received a classical and fairly liberal education, had been intended for a surgeon. To give him a knowledge of the properties of drugs and medicines, Mr. Rymer had first put him behind his own counter at Timberdale, and then placed him with a chemist at Tewkesbury. There Ben fell into bad companionship. Later, when he was again stay- ing at home, he visited the letter-bag one night (Mr. Rymer was then the postmaster of Timberdale), opened a letter that was addressed to Mrs. Todhetley, took out the five-pound note it contained (and which he chanced to know was there) and substituted another for it. This other was a note stolen at Tewkesbury by some of Ben’s companions; they had given it to him to get nd of, and that’s the way he didit. For some time the changing of the notes was enveloped in fog; or, as Thomas Rymer himself expregsed it, in 2 sea of mystery; later, Ben’s share in it came out. Not to the world in general; only to one or two items of its people. It helped to kill Thomas Rymer, and it sent Mr. Ben off on his wanderings again. It was a bit of ill-luck for him, for he had really pulled up, was reading hard at his medical books, and become as steady as could be. Never, since then—some ten months ago now—had Ben been heard of. And it was this that Herbert Tanerton was now threatening to disclose to the curate. But I did not think he’d do it. ‘“‘ We were just talking of you,” was the Rector’s greeting to Mr. Sale as the curate came into the room. - “ Bringa chair to the front of the fire: Johnny, keep your seat. I’m sure it’s cold enough to make’one wish to be in the fire to-day, instead of round it.” CORNICE OOS (GO)