The Argosy — page 119: what you’re looking at

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

104 Lady Valeria. Her delicate aquiline features had the somewhat over-refined, fastidious expression that high-arched, fine eyebrows and raised nostrils give to the face they belong to. She was a woman to whom diamonds, trailing silken robes, and the uppermost rooms at feasts ought to come by right of birth Eustace thought, as he looked at her with quiet attention, waiting for her to speak again. ‘No, you do not know me. Iam glad of it. If you did, how could you believe what I am going to tell you? That I—HI, of ali women ¥ She stopped, her breath came quickly and heavily, the rings om her ungloved hands grated as she clasped them together. ‘The next minute she was kneeling at his feet, her head thrown back, and her hands raised to him imploringly. ‘Oh, help me! save me! I am a miserable, guilty woman. Yow preached of repentance and hope—you spoke of confession and for- giveness. ‘Tell me what pardon there is forme? What place of re- pentance can I find while my sin stays by me?” “None,” spoke Eustace, solemnly and sadly. ‘‘ But be thankful that there zs no sin from whose burden deliverance is impossible.” ‘Vou shall tell me what to do,” she moaned. “I shall go mad or die, with my secret untold, if you will not hear me. You shall tel me what reparation I can make. Surely the time is not past?” She rose to her feet, and stood veiling herself in the folds of the costly lace that draped her head and shoulders, and shrinking away from him while she spoke. ‘How can you guess the crime that clings to me? I brought my husband to his death and renounced my child. Can years of prayer, or seas of penitential tears, blot out that ?” ‘Tell me the whole story,” said Eustace, gravely and authorita- tively. ‘‘ You have no choice now.” ‘It was so long ago, and I was so young—so young and so igno- rant. A poor little neglected child, running wild about our Irish home, with nobody to care for me but blind Aunt Kitty; no com- panions but my foster sister, Katty Magrath, and her little brothers and sisters. My father never came near the place. No one did. We had enough to eat and drink, but I wore clothes like Katty’s, except when I put on my mother’s old jewellery. Once, I remember; Aunt de Cressy sent me some finery : a green satin pelisse, like her own daughter’s, and a bonnet with feathers, white and green. I remem- ber my reflection in the brook as I ran about in them for months and@ months barefoot.” She sank into her chair when she began to speak, and now sat half smiling for a second at the remembrance. “De Cressy !” interrupted the Vicar. ‘Are you any relation?” ““T am Lionel’s cousin. He is your curate, is he not? Yes, I » She stopped short, her eyes fixed in sudden alarm on Eustace’s. ‘“ Listen !” CORNICMOOOKS EOL)