The Argosy — page 351: what you’re looking at

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

322 The White Witch. do you meet him? See me, Mary, for the love of heaven. If you had a brother you would trust to him, would you not? Trust we, He is married, that man. I saw and talked with his wife yesterday. I saw the certificate. ‘They were married in New York in the autumn of last year: he must have gone over there on some police business. I am getting blind and confused and can write no more; only see me. GODFREY.” He folded this note and wrote Miss Dixon’s name on the envelope, and stamped it, and then put it in his pocket until he should learn her address. Then he tottered downstairs, to the dismay of Mrs. Penteith, who told him he ought not to have got up. “Tf I don’t see her, Aunt Margaret, I shall go mad,” said he; which was what he had told Mary in the letter. After luncheon, he persisted in going out. Mrs. Penteith, who was in great grief at the fresh hold which his infatuation had got upon him, wanted to go with him, but he begged that she would not; he said he must go alone. It was a raw, wet October day, and she was afraid of the effect of the damp upon him, weak as he now was; but nothing would stop him. He drove first to Brompton, determined to see Cattermole, and there he heard that Mr. and Mrs. Grey had left their lodgings suddenly that morning. Then he went back to Victoria and took the train on his way to Wandsworth Common. There was no cab at the station when he got out of the train, and enquired his way to Lady Davenant’s house. Fortunately it was very near, for Godfrey was hardly capable of walking. It was a pretty, detached residence standing back from the road, with a semi- circular lawn in front, surrounded by elm-trees that were now getting bare. A cab was standing outside one of the gates. Godfrey felt hope rise, he did not know why, in his heart as soon as he came in sight of the house, and the feeling became stronger as he entered. Lady Davenant being at home, he sent in his card, and was shown into the drawing-room. There was no apparent reason for this elation, for the room was furnished with light colours which gave a sense of cheerlessness, and was indifferently warmed by a small fire. He was kept waiting too, sitting in the gloom of the dull October afternoon on an ugly ottoman covered with light chintz, and still shivering from the effect of the damp out-of-doors. But his spirits remained obstinately and unaccountably high in spite of everything. He had looked at the black, smouldering fire with a strong tempta- tion to give it a soft little touch with the poker, when, without having heard any sound, he turned suddenly round under the impression that he should see Mary. Huis eyes fell instead on one of the regulation old-fashioned family portraits in oils on the wall, and without being able to see it clearly, he jumped up and examined it as well as he could in the bad light in which it was hung. “* Mary ?” said he to himself, questioningly, while the blood rushed GEomicbooks.¢co