The Argosy — page 81: what you’re looking at

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

68 Mrs. Carr’s Companion. engagement, but that engagement would never have been entered into with Viola Romayne, whose motive in entering this house under false colours is, I confess, a mystery to me. Had my son been at home,” with bitter significance, ‘‘ I could have better understood it.” The shaft, pointed with all the acuteness of Lady Mary’s dis- pleasure, found its way between the joints of Viola’s panoply of sorrow to her bruised and aching heart. She took a step forward, and a flash of indignation wakened in her eyes. ‘Lady Mary, what have I done that you should insult me? I may have been wrong, but do me the justice to believe that my motives at least were pure. You exacted from me a promise to hold no correspondence with your son; and, whatever it has cost me, I have kept my promise. Is it so strange that, in my loneliness, I sought the shelter of his mother’s roof, where I could, at least, some- times hear of him, inspired also by a wild hope but why should I condescend to explain? Good-bye, Lady Mary. I will not spend another night beneath the roof of one who can so misjudge me.” She turned proudly, with burning cheeks, her slight figure drawn up to its full height. For the moment she could remember only her wrongs. “Stay. I do not wish to treat you unfairly. You have been six months with Mrs. Carr. In this purse you will find a year’s salary, to compensate you for the inconvenience of a sudden change.” But Viola waved away Lady Mary’s hand and its contents. “No; I cannot take your money, Lady Mary. I worked for other wages; and since you deny me those, I will go away empty- handed.” ) She was moving away, but the Archdeacon interposed. ‘Stay, my dear. Mary, pray consider amoment! Miss Romayne’s conduct may have been deserving of censure, but not of cruelty. Be more merciful in your judgment.” He looked appealingly at his sister-in-law, but she made no signs of relenting, and he knew, of old, the uselessness of contending with that iron will, Finding her obdu- rate, he turned once more to Viola. ‘‘Miss Romayne, the carriage shall be at your service as early as you please to-morrow, and after a night’s reflection I trust that Lady Mary and yourself will part better friends.” But Viola had relapsed into a state of abstraction. She seemed scarcely to gather the meaning of his words, only answering gently to all his arguments. ‘‘To-night—I must go to-night.” ‘Impossible, my dear! We cannot allow it! A young creature like you! Mary, use your influence.” “Excuse me, Archdeacon, I have no wish to interfere. Miss Romayne is apparently well able to take care of herself.” The Archdeacon withdrew his detaining hand, for remonstrance seemed useless, and as in a dream Viola passed on. In the doorway she met Olive coming in, and with a wild, hungry longing for a word, COPMIEDIOOKS. ©