The Argosy — page 223: what you’re looking at

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

206 Caramel Cottage. dog flew up, barking. Barbary called out that it was the Squire’s dog, and | ‘Bless me!” interjected the Squire at this. “Ves, sir, your dog, Don,” continued Mr. Reste. ‘‘ Barbary very foolishly kicked the dog: he was in a panic, you see, lest the noise of its barking should bring up the keepers. ‘That kick must have enraged Don, and he fastened savagely on Barbary’s leg. I, fearing for Barbary’s life, or some lesser injury, grew excited, and fired at the dog. It killed him.” The Squire drew a deep breath. ‘“Not daring to leave the dog at the gate, for it might have betrayed us, we drew him across the yard to the brewhouse, and locked the door upon him. But while doing this, Ben Gibbon passed, and thereby learnt what had happened. ‘The next day, Barbary and I had some bickering together. I wanted to come to you and confess the truth openly ; Barbary forbade it, saying it would ruin him: we could bury the dog that night or the next, he said, and nobody would ever be the wiser. In the evening, Gibbon came in; he was all for Barbary’s opinion, and opposed mine. After he left, I and Barbary had a serious quarrel. I said I would leave there and then; he resented it, and followed me into the yard to try to keep me. But my temper was up, and I set off to walk to Evesham, telling him to send my traps after me, and to direct them to Euston Square Station. I-took the first morning train that passed through Evesham for Lon- don, and made my mind up on the journey to go abroad for a week or two. Truth to confess,” added the speaker, “I felt a bit of a coward about the dog, not knowing what proceedings you might take if it came to light, and I deemed it as well to be out of the way foratime. But I don’t like being a coward, Mr. Todhetley, it is a role I have never been used to, and I came down to-day to confess all. Barbary is going away, so it will not damage him: besides, it was really I who killed the dog, not he. And now, sir, I throw myself upon your mercy. What do you say to me?” ‘“Well, ’'m sure I don’t know,” said the Squire, who was in a rare good humour, and liked the young fellow besides. ‘“‘It was a bad thing to do—poor faithful Don! But it’s Christmas-tide, so I suppose ° we must say no more about it. Let bygones be begones.” Edgar Reste grasped his hand. ‘“‘ Barbary’s off to Canada, we are told,” said the Squire. ‘A better country for him than this. He has not been thought much of in this place, as you probably know. And it’s to be hoped that poor little maiden of his will get up her health again, which seems, by all accounts, to be much shattered.” “T think she'll get that up now,” said Mr. Reste, with a curious smile. ‘She is not going out with him, sir; she stays behind with mye. aney “With you!” cried the Squire, staring. ‘““T have just asked her to be my wife, and she Says, Yes,” sarc Mr 0) KSa(EO)