The Argosy — page 348: what you’re looking at

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

I[n the Dead of Night. 327 last, as I thought he would,” she said to herself. ‘Grown tired of Jane’s society, and no wonder. ‘There’s nothing in her.” As soon as the cloth was removed, Jane excused herself on the score of a headache and left the room. The Squire got into an easy chair and settled himself down for a post-prandial nap. Tom moved his chair a little nearer that of the widow. ‘““[ have grieved to see you so far from well, Mrs. McDermot,” he said, as he poured himself out another glass of wine. ‘ My father was a doctor, and I suppose I caught the habit from him of reading the signs of health or sickness in people’s faces.” Mrs. McDermot was visibly discomposed. She was a great coward with regard to her health, and Tom knew it. “Yes,” she said, “‘ I have not been well for some time past. But I was not aware that the traces of my indisposition were so plainly visible to others.” “They are visible to me because, as I tell you, I am half a doctor both by birth and bringing up. You seem to me, Mrs. McDermot, pardon me for saying so—to have been fading—to have been going backward, as it were, almost from the day of your arrival at Pin- cote.” | Mrs. McDermot coughed and moved uneasily in her chair. “I have been a confirmed invalid for years,” she said, querulously, “ and vet no one will believe me when I tell them so.” | ‘I can very readily believe it,” said Tom, gravely. Then he lapsed into an ominous silence. ‘¢TJ—I did not know that I was looking any worse now than when I first came to Pincote,” she said at last. “You seem to me to be much older-looking, much more careworn, with lines making their appearance round your eyes and mouth, such as I never noticed before. So, at least, it strikes me, but I may be, and I dare say I am, quite wrong.” The widow seemed at a loss what to say. Tom’s words had evi- dently rendered her very uneasy. ‘‘ Then what would you advise me to do?” she said, after atime. ‘‘If you can detect the disease so readily, you should have no difficulty in specifying the remedy.” “ Ah, now I am afraid you are getting beyond my depth,” said Tom, with a smile. “I am little more than a theorizer, you know; but I should have no hesitation in saying that your disorder is connected with the mind.” “ Gracious me, Mr. Bristow!” “Ves, Mrs. McDermot; my opmon is that you are suffering from an undue development of brain power.” _ The widow looked puzzled. ‘I was always considered rather intel- lectual,” she said, with a glance at her brother. But the Squire still slept. COMICOOOKS. CO