The Argosy — page 40: what you’re looking at

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

Roger Bevere. 29 ‘‘ Who else heard the chance word ?” “ Nobody else. And I’m sure you know that you may trust me. I wanted to ask if I could do pies for you. How frightened you look, old fellow!” Bevere lay down again, painfully uneasy yet, as was plain to be seen. “‘T didn’t want anybody to find me out here,” he said. ‘‘ If some— some people came, there might be the dickens to pay. And Uncle John is up now, worse luck! He does not understand London ways, and he is the strictest old guy that ever wore silver shoe-buckles—you should see him on state occasions. Ask Johnny Ludlow there whether he is strait-laced or not; he knows. Johnny, this is Charley Lightfoot : one of us at Bart’s.” Charley turned to shake hands, saying he had heard of me. He then set himself to soothe Bevere, assuring him he would not tell any- body where he was lying, or that he had been to see him. *‘Don’t mind my temper, old friend,” whispered Bevere, repent- antly, his blue eyes going out to the other’s in sad yearning. “Iam a bit tried—as you’d admit, if all were known.” Lightfoot departed. By-and-by the Squire and Mr. Brandon returned, and Mrs. Mapping gave us some lunch in her parlour. When the Squire was ready to leave, I ran up to say good-bye to Roger. He gazed at me questioningly, eyes and cheeks glistening with fever. ‘Ts it true?” he whispered. * Ts what true?” ‘That Uncle John has written for my mother ? ” “Oh yes, that’s true.” ** Good Heavens!” murmured Bevere. * Would you not like to see her?” *‘Tt’s not that. She’s the best mother living. It is—for fear—lI didn’t want to be found out lying here,” he broke off, ‘and it seems that all the world is coming. If it gets to certain ears, I’m done for.” Scarlet and more scarlet grew his cheeks. His pulse must have been running up to about a hundred-and-fifty. “‘ As sure as you arealive, Roger, you'll bring the fever on again! ” “So much the better :I do—save for what I might say in my ravings,” he retorted. ‘ So much the better if it carries me off! There'd be an end to it all, then.” “One might think you had a desperate secret on your conscience,” I said to him in my surprise. ‘ Had seta house on fire, or something * as good.” ** And I have a secret; and it’s something far more dreadful than setting a house on fire,” he avowed, recklessly, in his distress. ‘“ And if it should get to the knowledge of Uncle John and the mother— well, I tell you, Johnny Ludlow, I’d rather die than face the shame.” Was he raving now ?—as he had been on the verge of, in the fever, Gomilchboo s) (E(0)