The Argosy — page 230: what you’re looking at

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

The Tenant of The Cedars. 211 “ Villain ! traitor! murderer!” he uttered, in a breathless tone of concentrated passion. ‘‘I have spared you too long. By heaven, you shall not escape me now!” Startled by the unexpected attack, Sir Philip staggered backwards and would have fallen, if he had not caught at one of the rustic pillars of the verandah. Recovering himself, however, he shook off his assailant, and casting a wild, panic-stricken glance around, darted across the lawn. The gardener hurried in pursuit, and I mechanically followed, feeling as if all the events of the night were part of a wild and troubled dream. In spite of his lameness, Underwood gained on the other, and was close behind him when he reached the gate. Sir Philip quickened his pace and hurried over the bridge. But when half-way across it, his foot caught in one of the loose planks ; he stumbled, put out his hand blindly in search of the missing rail, lost his balance, and fell headlong into the deepest part of the stream. I uttered a cry of dismay, and dashed on to the bridge, where Underwood was standing, his dark hair disordered by the wind, staring blankly down at the spot where the baronet had disappeared. The latter rose to the surface some yards below the bridge, struggling helplessly against the headstrong current. The moonlight gleamed for a moment on his white face, showing the look of terror and anguish imprinted on it—a look which haunts me still. ‘* Underwood !” he gasped; ‘‘ you can swim—help! save me.” For all reply, the gardener deliberately folded his arms, looking down at him with a dreadful smile. Surely you will not let him drown before your eyes!” I ex- claimed ; ‘‘remember, vengeance is not yours. Save him ——” “Not if I could do it by lifting a finger,” was his stern reply. I said no more, perceiving that my words would have no more effect on him than the wind which was raving above our heads. I turned, and was hurrying away, in the faint hope of being able to give aid from the bank, when, without otherwise changing his position, he put out a hand and grasped my wrist, holding it as in a vice. “Stay where you are,” he said, in a stern imperative undertone. “It is just that he should perish—a life for a life!” But even as the words passed his lips, his grasp suddenly relaxed ; he dropped my wrist and stepped back a pace from me. _ Glancing at his face I saw in it a change so extraordinary that it arrested my attention even in the midst of my excitement. He was gazing intently at something in the space between us; something which was visible to himself alone, for to me there seemed _ Only air and moonlight. What did he see? What was it that brought that look of mingled awe and rapture to his dark face, transfiguring every feature? He gazed steadily for a moment, then bowed his head as if in assent. Cconniclooolks (C(O)