The Argosy — page 269: what you’re looking at

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

252 The White Witch. ‘You don’t come up to me, Mary! I have wanted to speak to you ever since last night. What is to be done? I am so terribly afraid of arousing suspicion in my husband!” ** Dear, kind, old Mr. Mayne! He would never suspect anyone. It is not him you need fear, mamma, but Godfrey. Godfrey’s grey eyes, still though they look, see everything.” ‘‘OQh, Mary, Mary, what shall we do? Who would have thought of Sir William’s living near 4eve / He may call; he is sure to call ; Mr. Mayne said so: and then z ‘“Now, mamma, do be calm! If you excite yourself you may become really ill. You must just lay out a plan in case Sir William does call ——” Mrs. Mayne shuddered. ‘And act up to it,” continued Mary, removing the finger which her mother had placed upon her lips. ‘‘ Listen. As long as the danger lasts, that is, until Sir William has left Goule Park again—and - Mr. Mayne said, you know, that would be very soon—we must not sit in the drawing-room in the afternoon at the time that visitors call. If word be brought to you that Sir William has called, you must be ill—a sudden and violent headache, or something that prevents your seeing him. Oh, it will be all very easy,” added the girl in acheering tone, giving nevertheless an anxious glance at her mother. ‘But we may meet him out, Mary! We are sure to come face to face with him somewhere.” “Tt is not at all sure. You must wear a thick veil, And Mr. Mayne was so much concerned at what we called your over-fatigue last night, that we can refuse any invitation we think dangerous on that ground. Do not despond, mamma. He will soon go away again, and all fear will be over.” “Ah, you can talk calmly and prepare calmly; you are so cold!” ‘*Cold !” echoed the girl, her voice rising from its low murmur for the first time. ‘You call me cold because you do not know what heat iss Why, my whole life is a fever—kept under most of the time ; forgotten every now and then, when I am with the Thornhill children or laughing with Ernest ; but always smouldering underneath, ready to burst out as soonas Iam alone. I seem ‘cold’ because I am always at white heat; I seem ‘ prepared’ because I can never forget. I can no longer find contentment in reading, as I used to do; if I get hold of any book exciting enough to claim my attention, I am sure to find in it, sooner or later, some reference to my own secret, or some foreshadowing of my own fate. And then I keep my eyes on the page, without being able to read further, but afraid lest if I raised them they should meet those of some other person who had come softly into the room and who would see my face change.” Mary Dixon paused. It had been a strange irrepressible outbreak. (EOANIKEl exeyxe) (e(o)