The Argosy — page 201: what you’re looking at

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

1d4 Winifred Power. you,” answered Ralph, whose manner had become almost gentle- manly. ‘‘ How is your son?” ‘He has been better ever since that terrible attack of pain through which you helped me to nurse him,” answered the father, with the © peculiar melancholy, so resigned yet so pathetic, with which those who love him speak of a confirmed invalid. ‘‘I am sure he will be glad to see you. I have not yet found the companion that I seek for him. Ned, you know, is a little fanciful,” added Mr. Graham with a smile as tender as a woman’s. “'To.be frank, ”’ said Ralph, ‘‘I thought of your wish in bringing you my niece.’ Mr. Graham looked a little surprised. He glanced for the first time fully at Gertrude, and was probably struck with her beauty, for an expression half-doubting, half-pleased came into his eyes. ‘“Indeed—if Ned consented ———” he murmured. “ But the life would be very dull for this young lady. We never see society ; never read newspapers ; rarely even go for drives. My only visitor is the doctor, and when Ned is suffering I am afraid that Miss Dallas would have nobody to talk to save Mrs. Wade, the housekeeper: an excellent woman, but not intellectual.” ‘“My niece detests society,” answered Ralph promptly. ‘* And when one’s circumstances change, as those of my niece have un- fortunately done, one shrinks from scenes of gaiety.” ‘Ves, indeed,” said Gertrude. Mr. Graham sprang up briskly. ‘I will go and prepare Ned for a visit from you. And we will hear what he has to say.” Upon which the uncle and niece were left alone. Ralph turned towards Gertrude, and breathed the words “‘ Worthy, but oppressive.” “ Do you allude to Mr. Graham, or to your own unusual efforts to conciliate him ?” she asked scornfully. “To both, if you like, child. You are sarcastic, but I do not mind. Ifa tool is to serve my purpose I prefer its being sharp.”’ The colour flushed into Gertrude’s cheeks. ‘‘You may be sure that I shall try to do my duty before everything,” she said. ‘‘T dare say you will —-— at first,” he replied placidly, and rage robbed her of power of retort. In a few minutes Mr. Graham returned. He led the way into a room, the like of which Gertrude had never seen before. It had not the splendour, nor the vastness of the library at The Limes, but it was imbued with that subtle essence of culture, refinement, and true enthusiasm which Sir John’s elaborately-constructed environment had always lacked. A small but lovely group in bronze faced the door; on a carved locker in one corner was set a splendid tripod in Indian enamel, blue as a peacock’s plumage, of exquisite design, and raised on feet of fretted brass; and the rare spaces between the lofty book-cases were covered with old Florentine leather, stamped with gold on a pale azure ground, and more beautiful because more Fal Gomicbdooksreo m