The Argosy — page 234: what you’re looking at

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

Winnifred Dee. 2109 ‘No, sir; oh no! never to you,” she answered ; and her agitation was so great he could not say more: so he went on to examine her chest. “T will send you in some medicine, Miss Dee; and I should recommend you not to get up to-morrow. You will be better in bed for a day or two,” he added; ‘it will give you rest. ‘[o-morrow morning I will call in again, and I hope to find you better.” It was too late to save Winnifred Dee: Charles Probert said so to himself when he went out. He had a faint suspicion that she wanted to die: and he knew that when people get that idea into their heads to start with, and any serious disease supervenes, it 1s not always to be cured. Still he wished that he had been called in earlier: he might have warded off this consumption, though probably only for a time, as 1t appeared to be hereditary. What could it be that was troubling her?—the setting-up of that milliner opposite, threatening loss of custom? But no; he hardly thought that. As these ideas passed through his mind, he saw Mrs. Sims over the way, the Vicar’s wife. For some months now this lady had been away from Rillbrook, having been seized with a dangerous illness while visiting her mother at a distance. ‘The Vicar had spent a good part ‘of every week with her, so that the sayings and doings of the parish had not reached his ears. They were at home now for good, and had just been regaled with the dainty dish of scandal touching Winnifred Dee, as served up to them with its items and details. “Mrs. Sims, I fear Winnifred Dee is dying,” began Mr. Probert, after shaking hands with her, and congratulating her on her return and renewed health. ‘I knew nothing about her illness until half an hour ago, I am sorry to say, when Martha White darted out and called me in. I don’t think she will live.” Considering what she had heard, this address took Mrs. Sims by surprise. She had not supposed the whispered scandal admitted of doubt, but she had always deemed the surgeon to be of an open, straightforward nature, and he certainly did not speak now as though he had anything dark on his conscience that needed concealment. ‘What is the matter with her?” she asked, watching his counte- nance attentively. : “Consumption. It has come on very rapidly, and, by what she tells me, must be hereditary. But the reason I speak to you 1s this, Mrs. Sims: the poor girl—and really she is but a girl—has some trouble upon her mind. It struck me so from her sad tones and the hopeless despair in her eyes ; so I asked her—asked her to tell me what is was, but she would not. I think, perhaps, if you were to question her, she might tell you.” “You have no idea what it is, yourself? ” ‘““T have not the least. A new bonnet shop has set itself up in Staveley’s old place since you left, which no doubt diminishes her custom—the world is sure to run after fresh faces, you know—but I CONNICOOKS.EO