The Argosy — page 247: what you’re looking at

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

232 Vilful Margaret. is not that ; but he has no right to assume that he has but to ask and have.” Her eyes were flashing ominously, which augured ill for Colonel Massingham’s suit, as her uncle pressed her for an answer ; her cheeks flushed angrily as she rose, evidently she was greatly put out. ‘Well, Madge ?” “Tell Colonel Massingham,” she cried with the dignity of an ofended queen, ‘‘that Margaret Darrell is not to be wooed through another, and that it is unwise to take things too much for granted.” The Squire maintained a prudent silence, but raised his eyebrows comically at the tragic air she assumed as she strode majestically towards the door. Before she could reach it, however, it was opened by some one from without, and a tall, strongly built, soldierly looking man, of about thirty-eight years of age, entered the room. Without being possessed of the exceptional beauty of his more youth- ful rival, Wilfrid Massingham could fairly claim to rank as a handsome man. All who looked on his pure-bred English face felt that they saw before them one who was, in every sense of the word, a gentleman. The well-defined chin and firm-looking mouth, its sternness softened by the most fascinating of smiles, bespoke a manly strength and decision of character that was not belied by the noble brow or by earnest eyes of a soft tender grey. Margaret’s cheeks paled as she met his gaze. She made a move- ment to pass him; but he put out his hand to detain her. Squire Darrell, failing to make the Colonel comprehend his winks and nods, -discreetly withdrew, leaving him to bear alone the full brunt of the young lady’s displeasure. “Will you allow me to pass, Colonel Massingham ?” she asked, impatiently tapping the ground with her foot. ‘“ Certainly, if you wish it,” he replied, moving from before the door. But her mood had changed: she made no movement to avail herself of the accorded permission, and the look of scorn partly faded from her face. It is hard to fathom the depths of the female mind, especially where it is swayed by love. Perhaps her undisciplined spirit was prompting her to revenge her offended dignity by the humiliation of him who had caused it. Or, another cause may have had its effect on her conduct. Colonel Massingham’s manliness had _ hitherto prevented him from becoming blindly submissive to her wayward. whims and caprices. She had long resented this, and her resent- ment was increased by a half-acknowledged intuition that in a tussle for mastery between them the Colonel would come off victor. Now the ball was at her feet, and she would show how well she could roll it, how little she cared for it. ‘Miss Darrell,” Colonel Massingham began, in quiet manly tones, as they stood facing each other, ‘I am not a courtier, and I fear have but little romance to spend in sentimental speeches. Your uncle, probably, has told you of my hopes. Have I been presump- tuous in entertaining them ?” CORNICE OOOKS (E(0)