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

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

186 The Wihite Witch. “Went to London, eh? Was really his daughter, I suppose ? Was she—was she a—gvod kind of girl?” “ Well, sir, I don’t know. Folks did say queer things about her ; but she was a pretty creature, with her great, soft eyes and her ——” The blood seemed to rush up to Godfrey’s head and dim his sight and dull his ears. For amoment he heard nothing more; then he recovered himself. The woman was talking on, ‘They did say she did something to her hair to make it that yellow colour; but it never looked natural, to my thinking, with her black eyes.” ‘Were the eyes quite black ?>—or brown?” ** Well now, sir, I’d not like to be positive. She just looked a lovely picture, and so young and innocent. But there ; one never knows,” Could this girl with the dyed hair have been Mary Dixon? He told himself with vehemence that it was impossible. The thought that the graceful, easy-mannered young woman, who was living quietly at the Abbey as a welcomed guest, could once have been—this, had so overwhelming a repugnance for him that for a few moments it made him sick and giddy. ‘What was she like?” he asked. “Tall ?—short?” ‘Well, she was betwixt and between, sir, as well as I can recollect ; but it’s more nor three years ago now: not tall, for sure. I didn’t see her often, for she rarely came to church. It was mostly driving by in her little pony-shay I used to see her. She had a pretty way with her—and pretty gowns she used to wear, too!” Godfrey grew hot as he listened. ‘The woman offered to show him the old house where the wicked doctor had lived. He could go over it if he liked, for it was to be let. But, though he did do so, there was nothing in the damp empty rooms to dispel or confirm his doubts. He threw himself on a rustic seat in the weedy garden, and tried to think of some way out of the difficulty into which his inquiries had brought him. He had learnt enough to puzzle, but not to satisfy him. ~The description of one of the two ladies who claimed to be the doctor’s widow was of a common- place person, without any distinctive characteristic; she had left the neighbourhood before his death ; while the girl, with whom she had lived amicably, did not leave it until afterwards. Were these two mother and daughter? Or was either of them really related to the Doctor? Were they a couple of adventuresses linked together for purposes of prey? Were they the two women now installed in comfort and security at the Abbey? These questions, dwelling upon them day after day, and the impossibility of solving them, nearly upset Godfrey’s brain. He returned to the Abbey from Liverpool looking jaded and miserable ; ready to anathematise the impulse which had led him to rake up the ashes of a dozen dead lives only to be haunted by the images he had himself called forth. Gomichbooks (E(0)