The Argosy — page 172: what you’re looking at

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

Edith Falconer. | 159 forward eagerly in his chair. ‘‘What are you saying, Sir Percival ? Pray explain. I thought Mr. Russell”—and already Mr. Falconer’s voice took a more respectful tone in enunciating the name—“‘“ Mr. Russell had been your tutor.” ‘‘So he was once, something of the sort, and we have been travel- ling together lately; but Russell 1s a gentleman, although his pros- pects were black enough until last autumn, when three people who were in the succession to the Heathfield estate were lost on one of the Cumberland lakes ; sudden squall, and all that, you know. Some people have such luck,” wound up the young man in a meditative fashion, leaving it an open question whether it were the drowned men or his friend whom he was congratulating. “Dear me! dearme! Wonderful, wonderful! Such changes and chances are there in this world. | Well, Sir Percival! I shall be very sorry if it turns out that Iam not to have you as a member of my family,” said Mr. Falconer, rising from his seat in a great hurry to con- sult Debrett and other sources of inquiry respecting the Russell family. The result of these inquiries was so satisfactory that Mr. Falconer hastened to offer an apology to Russell. This would have been to many men a task of difficulty and delicacy, but it was one that by no means appalled Mr. Falconer. He considered with himself first whether it were not possible to explain away his angry outburst, but even he could see no way of doing this; therefore he determined upon this single occasion to use a graceful candour, and to throw himself upon the generosity of the young man. But Russell proved as indifferent to the apology as he had been to the occasion of it. Convinced of the disinterestedness and truth of Edith’s love, he cared for nothing further; therefore he readily returned some careless reply of acquiescence that contented Mr. Falconer, and henceforward his engagement with Edith was an acknowledged fact. “T’ll tell you what it is, Russell,” said Sir Percival Hunt, the next morning, as he continued to dash sundry possessions of his into an already over-full portmanteau, “‘ you have served me a shabby trick.” ‘Not at all; you were always assuring. me of your success. Do you remember the day you cried Venl, vidi, vici? ‘And now I suppose I may cry Victus sum. Well! I don’t feel cast down to the uttermost depths of despair: I am not sure that the fair Edith would altogether have suited me.” ‘‘T am of the same opinion, I don’t think she would altogether have suited you,” said Russell, with an emphasis that gave the words a new meaning. aan GOnlGaooks mn