The Argosy — page 283: what you’re looking at

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

258 The White Witch. I reckon, because he got out of me that it was a young lady who was below !” Godfrey could no longer sit still; his apathy had changed into. intense restlessness. He turned and twisted himself in his chair, he walked about ; at last he opened the door and listened. As he did so, he heard the front door close, and his aunt’s old butler come back from showing somebody out. Godfrey limped across the landing and down the stairs to the drawing-room, where he found Mrs. Penteith just shutting her work-table drawer. She started on seeing him. Oh, Godfrey, you should not walk about so much; you ought not to have come down,” said she anxiously. But he had advanced to the middle of the room with an eager light.in his eyes. ‘‘She has been here; she has been here!” he cried. ‘‘I know it, it was Mary Dixon, Oh, aunt, why did you not let me see her ?” ‘My dear boy!” exclaimed Mrs. Penteith, startled at his excite- ment. ‘It was not Miss Dixon indeed. Come to the window and look ; she cannot be out of sight yet.” She threw open the window and he looked hurriedly out. But whoever the visitor might have been, Mary was not to be seen. He drew in his head, not in the least satisfied. “‘T tell you I can find out the very chair she sat on,” said he, on fire with excitement still. And he did throw himself into the very compartment of the ottoman on which the visitor had rested. Mrs. Penteith looked bewildered. ‘It is a most curious mistake of yours, Godfrey. Miss Davenant, instead of being a beautiful, well- dressed woman, such as you describe Miss Dixon to be, is insignifi- cant and poorly attired, with nothing striking about her.” ** Poorly attired!” echoed Godfrey, his face contracting with pain. Now listen, and I will tell you all about it. Miss Davenant is a lady who saw you on your journey; and when you arrived at the terminus she, knowing who you were, was much concerned to see you looking so very ill. Hearing this address given, she called to enquire after you. She called last week also, but did not then come in.” “ But she has left a note forme? She must have left something ?.” *‘ She left no note.” Mrs. Penteith seemed to hesitate a little. Godfrey stumbled across to her work-table. ‘‘What were you doing here when I came in, aunt? He pulled the drawer out and took from among the wools and canvas a plain card, on which was written ‘ Miss Davenant.’ ” Godfrey laughed painfully. ‘‘ This tells it, aunt: it is Mary Dixon’s own handwriting. Why, wy should she be calling herself Davenant?’ Mrs. Penteith could scarcely believe that the grave, sad-faced, pale young woman who had just left her could be the brilliant Mary Dixon, the lovely White Witch who had taken hearts by storm and enslaved her nephew hopelessly. She concluded that there must be some mistake, Gomichoo