The Argosy — page 252: what you’re looking at

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

Maison Maloumne. 235 treated to a long lecture on my reckless disregard of the proprieties. Were these English manners or rather the want of them ? This running about the country with young men for untold hours, this liberty, was unheard of in France, and I must, at least, while under her roof, con- form to French usages ; unmarried girls could not be too particular. Conscience stricken, I could find no words of excuse. ‘The hot blood dyed my face, unshed tears made my eyes burn. Stooping, I kissed Bonne-maman in silence, and stepping through the open window into the garden I wandered away out of sight. Yes; I had been unmaidenly, immodest, undignified. Dishonourable, too, for- getting my plighted troth., If only Bonne-maman and Mr. Vernon knew, how they would despise me. Heartsick, I turned away from the garden and sought the solitude of the orchard. ‘There, alone, under the shadowy trees, I could think it out. My eyes ached; my head burned; I was humbled to the dust, to have failed when I felt so sure of myself! Playing with fire, how could I escape? And he—never in words had he confessed his’ love, but, by a thousand trifles light as air, I felt he loved me. And Berthe? Ah! I thought bitterly, he may like me but he will marry her. Will he love her? I threw myself on the soft cool grass, hiding my face with my hands, and trying to shut out the pain, the sorrow, and the shame, heedless of time and the passing hours. Suddenly a hand was placed on mine, and I started up. As I did so, my chain caught, the links broke, and my locket fell open at Horace’s feet. Before closing and returning it, he said, ‘‘May I?” and looking at the portrait, remarked, ‘‘ Your father’s likeness ? ” I shook my head, and, pointing to the pearl ring I wore, said bravely: “No! I am engaged.” “Engaged!” His voice was husky. ‘‘ Then you have been amusing yourself—flirting, to keep your hand in?” And without another word, but with the most hopeless expression I ever saw, he threw the locket down and left me. I tottered to my feet. I was avenged—he would despise me as a flirt, but he could not accuse me of giving my love unasked, or forcing it upon a man who was not free. If he were engaged, why, so was I. We were quits. With trembling hands I drew off the fatal ring, and going to my room laid it with the locket and addressed the parcel to the Rev. Robert Duncombe, and straightway wrote and asked for my freedom. I could bear the thrall no more. I must be free. I wrote kindly, feeling dimly the pain I was inflicting ; but at all risks I must be free. IIT. HORACE was staying at Dinan. The Baroness de Pontac and her daughter had arrived, and called on Mme. d’Harcourt. Of course, on Horace’s return he would be dancing attendance upon his fiancée. COMMICOOOKS.C©