The Argosy — page 125: what you’re looking at

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

IIO Lady Valera. of her grief. It was more like the clearing up shower of tears after a fit of naughtiness, than the scalding drops of shame and contrition, or even the sobs of hysterical excitement. He waited for a little and then spoke a few encouraging words softly and at intervals till the fit was over. She looked up presently, mechanically arranging her dis- ordered head-dress and draping her shawl around her, listening with a quiet, subdued air. ‘‘ Promise me,” he ended, ‘‘ that you will drive away the thought of selfbetrayal from your mind. You can do nothing but harm. Your son has been given into good hands, you say, and has no need of you. The pain of the separation has fallen as it should, on the one who has sinned. What can you do for him but bring sorrow and shame?” “T can make him rich,” she said eagerly. ‘‘ You do not know how wealthy Iam. He shall have Glenara and all the money Mr. Mey- nell settled on me to keep it up. That was the bribe that tempted my poor father, money enough to free the estate—which is to go to my eldest son. Do you think I could bear to think of Oliver there?” Eustace groaned in spirit at the task which lay before him. Here was an embarrassing family secret given into his keeping. Lady Valeria’s mind was evidently failing her beneath the burden of it. Or did her sudden frantic craving for spiritual aid simply mean a desperate effort to secure an accomplice in some wild scheme of resti- tution in secret? He must have time to think it out before com- mitting himself farther. “Twill give you help to the utmost of my power,” he said deli- berately ; ‘‘and will keep your confidence sacred; but I must beg of you some further help. I want the date of your marriage and your son’s birth. JI want the year when you had the last news of him. If want his real name—his father’s name.” ‘““No!” she almost screamed, then controlled herself by a strong effort. She kept her eyes fixed on his, while a sort of dumb struggle seemed to shake her frame with agony. “TI can’t,” she gasped at length. ‘ I will not. When they told me that dreadful day that I had no right to it, then I vowed that it should never pass my lips again till my dying day. I should go mad if I were to see or hear it now.” She sat panting and trembling, her eyes glittering wildly in the lamplight, now and then sending sharp sideway glances at Eustace. ‘“When shall I see you again ?” he asked. ‘““T will write to you and fix a time,” she said, rising. ‘‘I will go now. Good-bye.” Eustace opened the door and looked out. “Wait until I have seen whether your carriage is there,” he said, and hastened to the porch, where he found the old verger on his favourite three-legged stool, half asleep, but resolutely maintaining his right to see everybody out of the church, and the church locked up to his satisfaction before he departed. ECORMICLOOOKS. (Ee) m