The Argosy — page 248: what you’re looking at

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

Wilfue Margaret. 233 This was a very different mode of wooing from that pursued by the passionate, vehement George Wilson: Madge was somewhat puzzled by its truthful and earnest straightforwardness. “JT will be candid with you, my dear,” continued the Colonel as she stood debating how to answer him. ‘You are not my first love —the memory of that is too dark to be shown to you—and I. am nearly twice your age ; but if you can accept the true and honest affec- tion that I now offer you, I pledge you, by my honour, that, from me you shall never have cause to repent it.” He put out his hands as if to take hers in his, but she kept them folded together in front of her. ‘‘J should not have spoken to your uncle,” he added, ‘had I not felt that I had received sufficient encouragement from you to justify such a step.” This latter allusion was unfortunate. All Madge’s offended dignity bristled up again ; the softening effect that had been stealing over her gave place to angry passion. In words of scorn she upbraided him for his presumption in imagining that she favoured his suit, hardly herself knowing what she said. Colonel Massingham fixed his clear, steady eyes on hers, and she was fain to droop as she foolishly cast from her that most precious gift, a simple, honest love. Without vouchsafing another glance at the unfortunate man whose hopes she had so ruthlessly quenched, Madge swept from the room. Stunned by the unexpectedness of the blow, for he truly loved her, Wilfrid Massingham sat lost in a dreamy stupor. ‘Twice within his life had he now loved, and twice had his heart been lacerated and torn by the capricious sex. He bowed his head in his hands as the memory of the dark past ran riot through his brain, bringing before him one who had seared his heart’s affections—for ever, he had thought then. It was not until he saw Margaret, he learnt that he still could love. Were the women all alike, he wondered—yet, how he loved her! The dusky shadows of evening began to fill the room, when some one entered and disturbed his reverie. It was George Wilson; George with a look a triumph bparkling in his won- drous eyes. ‘Congratulate me, old fellow,” he cried in joyous, rapturous tones as he held out his hand to Wilfrid ; ‘I have won her.” A look of pain passed over Colonel Massingham’s calm features as he took the hand that was offered to him. “I do congratulate you, Wilson,” he said in tones of deep and sincere earnestness. ‘The fight has been a fair one, and you are the conqueror. Margaret is wilful and high spirited ; but she has noble qualities, and she will be what you choose to make her.” ‘What I choose to make her !—do you think that ?” “Yes, if she loves you. I can but hope she does—as you have won her.” George Wilson’s shallow nature was moved by his companion’s ECORnnicloooks (C©)