The Argosy — page 314: what you’re looking at

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

Erna. 297 seemed to me in my dream, my ghostly guide had paused for a moment, and, pointing to it, had vanished from my sight. I stopped at last at one which, centuries before, had in all probability imaged forth the face of Peter, and, considering it attentively, felt some dim uncertainty of a recognition dawn upon me. “Erna,” I said, ‘‘it was this.” We searched long for the secret that Erna persisted in believing lay hidden behind that bit of carven wood. The June day wore slowly out, afternoon was creeping into evening, but still, though the sun sank in the west, and the shadowy twilight began to lend an added dimness to the chamber, those small white fingers followed patiently every line of carving in the grim old panel and the grimmer face that frowned above it, and the bright eyes watched tirelessly for some clue as to where might lurk the spring that it was Erna’s wild fancy lay somewhere hidden for her to press. At last, tired of by turns aiding in and laughing at this wild quest, I menaced Erna that, unless she yielded to my often-repeated entreaty and abandoned it, I would leave her to seek for secret springs and hidden crypts alone. ‘Then I turned towards the door, as if to carry out my threat. ‘She fled past me, rapid as a legendary fay, and, placing one hand upon the lock, with the other waved me back. ‘‘ Gerald,” she said, half laughing, and yet with a strange, sweet coaxing in her voice, “IT want you to promise that as long as I choose to seek in this room for the secret I think it will give up to us, you will not leave me.” I had not meant to speak to her of my love. What was there in her words that they should thrill some subtle nerve within me, and send strange passion burning through my veins? I took her hand in mine—her slight girl’s hand—and my eyes sought hers with a wild desire to read my destiny in them. “Erna,” I said, “look up.” She bent her head still lower. I could see only the crimsoned cheek, and the golden head that drooped above it. “You said once that if I ever dared to speak to you of love again, it would force you to remember that we were scarcely even cousins. I dare it now; I will be something more than a cousin to you, or we shall part. Erna, I say now, and more boldly thana year ago—I love you.” Still no answer; and the cheek flushed more and more, and the golden head drooped lower. “T love you, Erna,” I repeated, trying vainly to make her lift her face to mine. Something in her silence and her blush emboldened me. I drew her gently to me, and—and “The ghosts have given you to me, Erna,” I said, releasing her—as she rather shrank from me, blushing, and hid her glowing COMIC OOOKS.CO