The Argosy — page 363: what you’re looking at

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

334 The White Witch. ‘A boy that I’ve had upon my knee scores o’ times—that I’ve loved better than if he was my own!” moaned Dunning, her tears falling like rain. ‘There, don’t be silly! Go and lght the gas.” She felt under his pillow and opened both his hands first, to assure herself that he had no second supply of the powder, and then obeyed noiselessly. He sat up and blinked his eyes in the sudden light ; they were quite dry. As she came back to him he turned upon her, ready for a sermon. But she gave him none; she took up his pillow, shook what grains of powder had fallen on it into the fire-place with a shudder, put it behind him again, brushed the bed-clothes with her hands, and picked up the paper which had con- tained the powder, the label of which had been torn off. ‘‘ What was it ?” she whispered. ‘Nothing but a sleeping dose,’ returned Godfrey. ‘What a goose you are, Dunning!” In truth it was nothing but a little innocent bromide of potassium. Conscious of the excited state his nerves were in, he had gone into a chemist’s as he came along, and asked for something to calm them. Dunning, however, would never feel entirely sure to her dying day that it .was not some wicked and deadly drug, warranted to destroy life. Pretty well assured that he was safe for the night, she left him to his repose. But of repose he got none. Early in the morning, when Mrs. Penteith stole into his room, she found him in a high state of fever. Godfrey threw all the blame upon Dunning: if she had but let him swallow his sleeping dose, he might have fallen into repose calmly. Mrs. Penteith got him some refreshment, and then sat down to talk to him. ‘¢ Let me know all about it,” my poor boy, soothingly. ‘ You will tell me, won't you? Iam sorry for what I said yesterday—you thought me unkind, but indeed I am not. I would do everything to help and comfort you.” ‘Nobody can do anything, Aunt Margaret,” he sighed, pressing her loving fingers. ‘What was it that kept you out my dear?” Godfrey lay for a few minutes without speaking. ‘‘T suppose I was foolish,” he said presently: ‘I mean, to think she would marry me in that haste ; but it did not seem to me foolish then. I went up to Great Cumberland Street and asked to see her ; but the servant said Miss Dixon never saw anyone, and shut the door in my face. ‘Then I went into a stationer’s shop and asked leave to write a note. I told her in the note what I meant to do— that I should come that night and carry her away from her enemies, and marry her on the morrow. While I was handing in this note at Great Cumberland Street, I found I had left my pocket-book in the shop, with the bank notes in it, so I went back for it 2 Eomicbooks.co m