The Argosy — page 276: what you’re looking at

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

Winifred Power. 257 saw him in the arena victorious. He met her glance, and while his own brightened at her manifest sympathy, she dropped her eyes with a sudden blush, and a sudden thrill that was half shy and half delightful. She was rather angry with herself for this emotion; and she had never been in love. In her student days she had regarded the ardent youths who adored her with a scornful indulgence, half motherly, half school-boyish, that had sent them nearly out of their minds. Shortly after Mark’s departure, Winifred went to spend a week or two in London with a young lady-artist whom she had known in Paris. There, in the studio, she again met the young model. She had reached that stage of her picture when she required more models than it was convenient to bring down to Elmsleigh. Among the most frequent of these was that Mariuccia Ridgeley, the daughter of Sir John’s former coachman. She was a pretty little thing, full of wilful ways and a fitful Southern grace, and talked a great deal about herself and her sick father. ‘He is much worse,” she said one day, shaking her head mourn- fully. ‘And the doctor orders so many things that I cannot afford to get him. He has written again to Sir John: would the signorina mind asking if the letter had been received ?” Winifred had a great objection to asking anything of the kind; and preferred helping Mr. Ridgeley as much as she could out of her own slender purse. She even tried to point out to Mariuccia that the mere fact of having been a coachman once in Sir John’s service did not entitle her father to be supported by that gentleman for the term of his natural life. “Ah! but Sir John has helped my father often,” said Mariuccia. ‘He used to send him money whenever he asked for it, big sums— ten pounds—twenty pounds 24 Winifred was greatly surprised. Of all the perplexing people she. had ever known, Sir John was the most inscrutable. Just as she- had made up her mind that he was close and near, some act of gene- rosity on his part would reach her. But one day the girl came with a different request—that Miss Power would kindly visit him. “ ¥ really think he is dying,” she added. It was a foggy afternoon when Winifred turned her steps towards. the man’s lodgings. ‘They were in a street not very far from the British Museum. Mariuccia gave her a glad welcome, and ushered her into the little kitchen where Ridgeley was sitting. She found him a man of big, burly frame, that contrasted mournfully with his evident weakness. He was propped up by pillows in an arm-chair, and it was evident that every breath he drew was a torture to him. “TI have to thank you, ma’am, for your kindness,” he began, slowly, when Winifred was seated, “ but I cannot afford ‘neh breath.” She began some words of comfort, when he stopped her with a gesture. ‘ There isn’t much comfort for me now in the world, miss. WOL, XXXV. S ECOMICOOOKS. EO An