The Argosy — page 188: what you’re looking at

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

The White Witch. I73 bulrushes. I was going down to the lane by the church to get the roses, so that I might begin it early to-morrow morning, when mamma forbade my going out by myself so late. Mr. Mayne said: ‘ Ask Godfrey to go with you.’ I knew I should not dare; but he insisted on my coming, so I thought I would bring the coffee, and then, if I were too much frightened to ask, I could run away.” “Indeed I am sorry that I seem so formidable,” returned Godfrey, with ashort laugh. ‘I shall be happy to go with you. Shall I call Lydia to get your hat ?” “Oh, no, thank you. We shall not meet anybody, and we must make haste. This shawl will do. And please light your cigar again.” She took up an old grey shawl that was hanging on a peg from which once school-slates had hung; and, throwing it round her head and shoulders before he could offer to help her, she opened the inner door, crossed the hall and went out, followed by Godfrey. He was a good deal softened towards her, against his will, by her pretty manners. She walked quickly on with only a trivial remark or two about the heat and the gnats. It was a lovely evening, the sun hardly set. They turned into the broad avenue which led to the church, and _ went quickly on, over the long grass under the elm-trees, through clouds of gnats and among myriads of chirping grasshoppers, till they came to the wall of the churchyard, on one side of which a Jane ran down a steep hill to a little farm at the bottom. The steep banks of this lane were as a fairyland of wild treasures. Snowdrops, violets, primroses, wild roses and honeysuckle, blackberries, all in their season, grew there ; and nowin the prime of the flower-time it was sweet with a dozen faint scents. She was about to sit down in the bracken, but Godfrey interposed. “You will spoil your dress and get your feet wet. If you will sit here on this tree-trunk, I will gather just what you want. And mind you spread your shawl over it first.” She thanked him and sat down, while he leisurely gathered a great bunch of roses, glancing across the road at her from time to time. Grand effect sunset through the trees has on soft brown eyes, he thought. And then he wondered what this sudden change of manner towards himself meant. Was she a hypocrite? Was she an adventuress? Yet what could that mysterious talk with her mother mean, if there was any doubt about the fact of her having something damaging to conceal? He looked at her again. What was the trick, he wondered, of throwing an ugly old grey woollen shawl round one’s head so that it seemed quite the most becoming thing in the world? Was it coquetry that made her look up through the trees at the red light in the sky above the setting sun, with lips slightly parted, so that the rosy gleam made her eyes glisten and her cheeks lovely? Was that sad, thoughtful look, that touched him while it irritated him, real, or put on for him? She seemed to have forgotten him; for EONNIE DOO KS (E() m