The Argosy — page 371: what you’re looking at

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

348 The White Witch. his hand softly upon the door-handle of the school-room: a sound, as of a suppressed cough was heard within it. For an instant she looked convulsed with terror ; then, with astonishing want of presence of mind, called out aloud: ‘What is it? Someone is in there!” * The lamp—dquick !” cried he. But in her fright she let it fall just as he was snatching it from her ; or it may be they let it fall between them, There was enough moon- light to enable him to see a match-box standing on the slab. He seized it and dashed open the room door. ‘The blinds were not drawn down ; he was able to satisfy himself without any artificial light that no one was in the room, and he concluded the sounds must have come from the corridor. He looked down it, but could see no one. Miss Dixon was examining her little lamp. ‘The matches, please ; I want to light this,” said she, holding it up to see whether it was injured by the fall. Her teeth were chat- tering with fear; she tried to suppress it. ‘‘Could anybody get into the house?” she whispered. ‘“No, no; of course not. It must have been one of the servants. I believe it was Lydia.” | “ Lydia is with mamma.” ‘It was one of them, I know; eavesdropping,” persisted Godfrey. ‘Well, yes, I think it was. Perhaps it was Hawkins?” Godfrey believed that, if so, the faithful Hawkins must have been visiting the decanters, and mistaken his way to bed. Of which he would hear more from Godfrey in the morning. Mary Dixon shook hands with Godfrey, and shut herself into her room. He went back with slow steps to close the gallery window, and stood there thinking. He was in atumult of feeling. Elspeth was utterly forgotten. What thought could he give to /ev, that simple little maiden, amid the storm of fierce emotions which this pale girl with the changeful dark and lovely eyes had awoke in him this night P He had hated her, admired her, feared her, worshipped her, mistrusted her by turns, to find him- self, now that he was left alone, ten times more surely the slave of her influence than if she had hung about him with soft words and caresses, and an answering love-light in her passionate eyes. Passionate: but yet, how cold she was! For this delicate girl had a strange dignity, and could hold her own against the world. She owned that she had never felt love; that did not mean that she never could feel it. No man thinks a cold woman can be cold to him, if only he should deem it worth his while to induce her to be the contrary. There was a certain coldness about Mary Dixon which Godfrey did not at present intend to seek to subdue; but wild possibilities of hope, fear, longing, despair chased each other about in his excited brain. Closing the window, he began slowly to pace the corridor back, on m Eomichbooks.co