The Argosy — page 88: what you’re looking at

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

Cousin Barbara’s Prejudice. 73 for the time Madge Craigie and the trouble with Cousin Barbara was forgotten. : It was not till a light hand was laid on his shoulder and a rippling laugh fell on his ear that he looked up from the open drawer into the sweet face of the lady who had bewitched him. ‘Ts this what you call meeting me by the garden gate and bringing me in to tea with Cousin Bab? Look you, sir, I have a mind to be very angry.” ‘“* Not with me to-night, sweet lady. I have had much to trouble and vex me—a letter here which gives me endless worry. Besides, Cousin Bab has gone to bed; she is not well.” “Gone to bed! Oh, then, I ought not to have come, I suppose.” ‘Since you are here, however, you will not go. Let us chat together, for a little ; later on I will see you home.” And he rolled an easy chair to where she stood, and invited her ta sink down into its softness, for Trevor Lane was a sybarite in his home. Madge Craigie obeyed him, and, tossing her straw hat from her head to the ground, lay back among soft cushions, her golden wavy hair and white skin forming a striking contrast to their crimson hue. For a moment or two he sat and gazed at her in mute admiration, till her merry laugh recalled him to himself. “One would think that I am a picture,” she said, “ instead of «So you are a picture—a lovely picture—the embodiment of my perfect ideal. Say, Madge, beautiful Madge, will you be my own, my wife, my very true, devoted, loving wife? ” She looked into his eyes, still laughing. ‘“* Dear me, what an amount of truth, and devotion, and tenderness you seém to require. And pray may I ask how much you intend to give in return?” ““My thoughts by day, my dreams by night, everything I have shall be yours, if only you will consent. My dearest Madge, do not keep me in suspense, but tell me . , “Stop your rhapsodies, foolish man! Believe me, I am not worth them. I'll acknowledge, however, that I am rather fond of you, perhaps on account of the spontaneity there is about you. Hope it will last, though—there, there, don’t gush again. I believe you'll try and be true to me, and ”—with more seriousness of manner—“I will never be false to you.” . He tried to take her in his arms, but she repulsed him gently, bidding him be rational and discuss their future prospects calmly. And so, for awhile, they did, no allusion being made to Cousin Barbara, or the part she was likely to play in their lives. On a sudden Madge’s eye fell on the open drawer. “Wilfrid Lane !” she exclaimed, pointing to some papers on which that name was written. ‘ Wilfrid Lane! Is he a relation of yours? How odd I should never have thought of that before.” “Why? Do you know him?” Pp) Gomichboo (E(@) m