The Argosy — page 89: what you’re looking at

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

70 A Modern Fatima. to the child, and fond of him, and he pays me wel for taking care of him, and that’s all I know about the matter and all tht concerns me.” “Uncle Alick brings me candy, and toys, and pictures,” said the child. ‘“What a good uncle!” exclaimed Audrey. ‘I should like to see him. Have you a picture of him? Will you show it to me?” She was feeling desperate. But she wanted to be quite, guzfe sure ; and some little delusive whisper at her heart was suggesting that pos- sibly, after all, it might not be her Alick. ‘* Have you a likeness of the uncle ?” she repeated, turning to the nurse. ‘‘ If so, I should like to see it.” She asked this quite desperately ; it was probable that her request would reach her husband’s ears ; but she did not care what happened now that things had reached such a crisis. Audrey had been standing all this while in the garden path, and the nurse, fascinated by her manner, hurried into the house and fetched the desired likeness. ‘There was a thick mist before Audrey’s eyes as she tried to look at it, but in spite of this she recognised too clearly her husband’s photograph. “ He—looks very kind—your uncle,” she said, managing to control herself sufficiently to speak, for the little child was eagerly watching her. ‘“He is my dear uncle ; but he told me to call him that only when we were by our two selves.” ~The child spoke wonderfully distinctly and sensibly; and every word he said gave as much pain to poor Audrey as though his tongue were literally a sharp-edged sword. ‘You are not well, ma’am !—Will you come in and sit down for a few minutes ?” said the nurse, suddenly noticing Audrey’s white face and trembling, uncertain manner. “Thank you,” said Audrey. ‘I am not feeling well, but I am near my home and would rather go back there. Good-bye, little Alick !” She meant to stoop down and kiss the child, but absolutely could not bring herself to do so; she patted his head with her gloved hand, and hurried out of the garden gate. As she neared her home, her steps became slower and slower, for the idea which had taken possession of her mind was that perhaps she ought never to go back there. Perhaps the only thing in life that was left her was to fly from every loved face and familiar association ; to disappear from the world that it might never gaze on her wretchedness, and that Audrey Rogers should become a name and nothing more. It is frequently the most trivial circumstances which determine our fate for us, and it was so in this case. As Audrey hesitated at the gate, whether to enter it or not, her maid came out into the garden to see if she could find her mistress and call her in to afternoon tea. She ECORNICLIOOKS.EO) m