The Argosy — page 329: what you’re looking at

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

- —— een 310 Lady Arabella. her friend’s anger. “Look at history; read the newspapers; no, don’t ; they’re not fit——— Oh, oh, my dear, if you would only have listened to me!” “What can I do?” asked Lady Arabella, almost humbly. “For Heaven’s sake, pay the man, and go straight back to England,” urged Mrs. Mocourt. “It must be the price of his horse that he wants.” : “Go back to be badgered by the whole tribe? That I never will.” “The Frenchman ought to be killed,” sobbed Mocourt. “These stories all come from him, Iam sure. Hideous man!” ‘Don’t slander his personal appearance,” interjected Lady Arabella. ‘He is very handsome !” “T never look at him. I turn my head always, and we meet him so often that I feel like a te-totum.” «“T have a dozen of his photographs,” replied Lady Arabella. ‘He sent me so many I got tired of tearing them up. But, come, you must go to sleep now.’ ‘T shall never sleep again,” replied the governess, in atone as de- spairing as Macbeth’s. “If we stayed here a twelvemonth, I should not doze during the whole time !” But Lady Arabella secretly vowed that she should slumber tranquilly within two hours. She administered a dose of morphine in the lavender, and at last Mocourt buried her tear-stained face in the pillows, and slept in spite of herself. Lady Arabella bent over her, and kissed the wrinkled forehead. She was filled with remorse when she saw how sorely her kind old friend had aged during the past weary year. Stealing softly out of the room to visit the maid, who was ill in bed with a feverish cold, she found only new troubles, and fledin haste. James met her, respectful, but full of grievances; and John’s voice rose oe: below stairs, crooning a dismal chant. The old palace seemed turned into a dungeon, in which she could not breathe another instant. She ordered James to bid a groom take her saddle-horse outside the San Gallo Gate. Arraying herself in her habit, she put on a thick veil, drove outside the town in her carriage ; and there mounted her horse. She would not let the groom follow. The carriage could go up to Fiesole, and wait for her there: he could wait with it. So she rode up the winding road ; and by the time she reached the quaint old town, it was almost ounieit Beyond, stretched a road where she could have a good gallop. But first she reined in her horse, and sat looking down upon the beautiful scene spread out beneéith her, though it was half-hidden from her eyes by an unaccustomed rush of Gomicbooks.com