The Argosy — page 372: what you’re looking at

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

The White Witch. 349 his way to his own room: when, as he was passing Mary Dixon’s, sounds again smote his ear. Sounds of distress this time: wild sobs, moans of anguish, if not of terror. When Mary entered her room, all the impassive calmness she had been endeavouring to keep up was thrown to the winds. She glanced nervously about her, as if fearing to see an enemy ; then, sinking down on the ground like one in the depth of despair, throwing her hands upon a chair and her head upon them, she gave way to the most bitter distress. Convulsive sobs shook her frame, and they became loud and louder, almost beyond control. She was disturbed by a hurried knocking at the door. Shestarted up, dried her eyes as well as she could, and opened the door a little way. “Is it you, Lydia? Does mamma want me?” “It is I—Godfrey.” Her tear-stained cheeks, which there was just light enough to see, moved him as her most radiant smiles had never done; he almost lost command over his words. He thought it was he who had caused the distress. “Forgive me! I heard youcrying. It is my fault, I know—some of the hateful things I said. If I did but know how to comfort you ! { care for you more than for anyone on earth. I love you—TI grieve for you—my heart is torn with ——_” “Sir!” interrupted Miss Dixon, with the air of an empress. ‘‘ How dare you address such words to me?” she added, her voice alive with passion. ‘‘ How dare you come knocking at my door at this hour? Love! Are you mad ?” Godfrey drew himself up to his full height. ‘*I beg your pardon if I have offended you,” he said in a cold, proud tone. ‘ But you mistake me. Did you ever havea sister, Miss Dixon? I believe not. Well, I have one: my dear little sister Isabel. This was her room ; and sometimes I have heard sobs of distress from her in her girlish troubles just as I now heard them from you; andI have come to the door here to comfort her—to see what I could do forher. I had no other thought now. And for that I humbly crave your pardon. I am not quite mad. Good-night.” He went quickly along the gallery towards his own room. Mary Dixon gazed after him until he was out of view, a strangely softened expression on her face and a piteous look in her tear-dimmed eyes, as if it was hardto be so cruel to this well-meaning young man, who wanted to be so kind to her. “T cannot help myself; I cannot help myself!” she murmured, plaintively, a fresh flood of tears streaming forth. “Ob, merciful God, Thou knowest all my miserable plight ; all my helplessness !” EoOmMmichbooks (E(0) m