The Argosy — page 210: what you’re looking at

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

The White Witch. 195 and he was also conscious that he was presenting in himself a mar- vellous contradiction. When Godfrey got back to the drawing-room, Mary Dixon was correcting a blunder in her mother’s crewel work ; Mrs. Mayne sat watching the girl’s fingers with interest. His father jumped up from his arm-chair as he entered. ‘Godfrey, at last! What a time you have stayed out. Laura, suppose we have a game at cards? You and Mary play whist, I suppose? We have never played since you came here.” He had gone to a card-table which stood folded in a corner of the room, and was taking out the cards, with his back to the rest. Godfrey stood by the mantel-piece. At the mention of cards, he saw Mrs. Mayne start; but she made no answer. Mr. Mayne repeated his question. “You both play whist, of course ?” “No; I don’t play cards at all,” she answered then. ‘Nor does Mary.” Her voice was so much altered that her husband wheeled round. “But why ? You do not mean to say you disapprove of a harm- less hand at cards, Laura! You cannot think it wicked to play ?” “‘ No—but—I never play. I am tiréd, too. Do please excuse me, Henry,” she added, rising. Mary was still bending over her work. But Mr. Mayne did not like to be thwarted (when he knew it), even in trifles. ‘*Am [I to understand that it is a matter of principle with you and with Mary? What harm can lie in a quiet game of cards at home? It is not gambling. Gambling of course is dreadful. Why, I knew an awful instance of the danger of that among my own acquaintance. A son of Sir William Hunt ——’” | Mrs. Mayne’s work-basket slipped from her hands to the floor. Godfrey drew near to pick up the scattered trifles; and Mr. Mayne resumed the thread of his discourse. “It was his eldest son—William Hunt’s; a friend of mine. He has a place near here, and he has just got back to it from Scotland. The poor lad, Willie is Mrs. Mayne fell back in her chair ; her daughter rose quickly and bent over her. Mr. Mayne stared helplessly. Godfrey rang the bell. ‘Don’t be frightened,” said Mary, ‘‘ mamma will be better directly. She is only faint from a little over-fatigue : she walked about too long after dinner.” Mary Dixon was calm and white as a statue of stone. But Godfrey, who had been observant since the first mention of the cards, saw that some strange excitement was burning in her sad dark eyes. ‘ (Zo be continued. ) Eomichbooks.co m