The Argosy — page 32: what you’re looking at

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

~The White Witch. 17 my unwelcome attentions to you might be remarked, you did right in seizing the chance of repelling me openly.” ‘‘You are mistaken; indeed you are. Is it likely that I should dare to offend you, after last night?” she whispered. He laughed. ‘‘ You need not pretend to be afraid of me. Your dislike cannot prevent your seeing that I am a gentleman.” ‘““T don’t dislike you. I had promised Ernest. He—he has just asked me to be his wife.” Godfrey turned cold, and shivered as he heard her; but he neither looked up nor spoke: there was that in her tone which told she had accepted him. At last she touched his hand and said in a timid — voice : “Don’t look like that; you frighten me. It cannot matter to you ; you are engaged to Elspeth.” “Not matter!” said he, hoarsely. ‘* No, not more than life itself matters to me. You cannot pretend you don’t know that I love you. Why do you talk of my engagement, when you know that I was led into that by a trick—that I might be kept from-you?” Mary started violently. ‘* Yes, yes, I know that now. Heaven knows why, but your mother wanted to keep me from you 4 ‘You do know why,” she interrupted. ‘‘ How could I, with a blight on my life —— ” ‘* But you are going to marry Ernest ?” “ But—but,” she began with hesitation, | “but he knows more than you do, and he will love me all the same.’ “‘And do not I love you?” cried dow flinging himself on the ottoman beside her and looking into her eyes with an overmastering vehemence that frightened her. ‘“‘ A smile from you makes my senses reel, every tear I see you shed scalds me like fire. You pull at my heart-strings with every word you say, and when you touch me I know not where I am or what I’m doing. I tell you, Mary, if you cared for a man’s love, you could no more resist me, to give yourself to a feather-headed, light-hearted, impulsive boy like Ernest, than you could prefer starvation to the wealth of a queen. Oh, how can you be so hard to me?” he concluded piteously. “Hush,” she whispered, afraid of this outburst being heard. “You should not talk like that, Mr. Godfrey: you have no right to. This is not love ; it is an infatuation, and worth nothing.” ‘“How dare you say that?” said he, rising. ‘How dare you presume to judge a passion you cannot feel! How can you sit there, and shrink, and shiver, without one touch of pity for the suffering you have caused me ?” “Because I know that a passion like yours is a selfish, cruel thing, more to be dreaded than anything else in the world,” said she, firmly. ‘‘ When you were gentle and kind, I respected you, I was sorry if I hurt you; but when you are like this, you make me sick with terror.” VOL, XXXVIII. C Gomichoc ¢S) (E() m