The Argosy — page 174: what you’re looking at

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

Cyril Trevor's Wood-Nymph. 159 that had captivated me that very first day I had seen her at the pool. This innate modesty was part of her nature, inseparable as herself, as exquisite as, alas, it has become rare. Then I told her that my uncle was indeed worse, and thought his end approaching. I added that his only remaining wish on earth was our marriage, and begged Beatrice to name the day. At first she was pale and agitated; but with all her modesty and simplicity there was such an absence of coquetry about her that before many minutes were over she had given me the required promise, and named the day. ‘Then, together, with as much happiness in our hearts probably as was ever given to mortal, we went in search of Madame B That good lady was not surprised at the news we brought; but while congratulating me, joined with Beatrice in urging my departure, as my uncle must require my immediate care. In truth, my own eagerness was great to hasten back to him. I bade them both fare- well. ‘The servant met me at the door. ‘‘Mr. ‘Trevor is worse, sir,” was the news that greeted me. ‘“‘ We were going to send for you. ‘The doctor says there is little hope.” I ran upstairs to his room. ‘The dear old gentleman was strug- gling hard for breath ; but he smiled and tried to speak as I leaned over the bed. “Tt is all right, uncle,” I said, softly. ‘‘ Beatrice has promised to be mine in a month from to-day, but sent me back to you the moment she heard of your illness.” He pressed my hand feebly in reply. All through the sorrowful night I sat beside him, distressed at the sight of his sufferings, which he bore so_ patiently. Towards morning the struggle abated, and he fell into a semi-stupor. How strange life seemed to me during the long hours of that watch! From a sick-bed to a ball; from a proposal to a death! How every act of loving kindness came back to me, as I recalled the years we had spent together, with never an unkind word to mar the memory of the tenderness bestowed on me. And now—yjust as the great wish of his heart—the only one I had ever evinced reluctance to fulfil was about to be gratified—he might not see the consummation of his hopes! How often it is thus in life! When the dawn was shining clearly through the curtains he raised himself with my assistance, and, with the ghost of his old quaint smile, he whispered : “So yowre going to be married at last, Cyril, and the old man has not a wish on earth unfulfilled. Farewell, my boy; you have ever been as a son to me, the one bright spot in a lonely life. God bless you, and make you happy! Good-bye, Cyril. Some day we shall wish each other good morning in a happier clime.” Then he fell back as if to sleep—but it was the last long sleep that knows no waking. CONNICOOO (C(O)