The Argosy — page 358: what you’re looking at

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

Lady Valeria. 337 “ T’ll go with you and show you the way,” he said, when the case was put to him, “ but I think you’d better tell the story yourself. My eood word wouldn’t do much for your recruit with his father, ’m sorry to say. There’s the house, and there’s Mr. Paramount just going in.” The little old gentleman, umbrella in hand and a huge roll of papers under his arm, turned and faced Edric in the narrow passage. Edric introduced himself, for de Cressy had fled. “I have a message to give you from your son, Mr. Paramount.” “Then I must beg of you zof to deliver it,” was the disconcerting reply. ‘I have no desire to hear more of him.” Edric was almost tempted to give up the point and retreat discom- fited, but Mr. Paramount flung open the parlour door hospitably wide, and he caught a glimpse of Elsie crouching in her window-seat, her pretty eyes opened to their widest with startled delight, her hand pressed on her heart, which had given one great beat, and then stood still with delicious incredulity at the sound of the voice outside. He could but enter and make a second attempt in Sampson’s behalf, addressing himself to her this time, as her father with osten- tatious indifference began to unfasten his papers and turn them over. Still, he was listening, Edric thought, so he delivered himself of a little explanatory speech, making out the best case he could for Sampson, while Elsie blushed, and murmured her thanks, and lifted her eyes in shy, grateful glances. Mr. Paramount fidgeted about, sorting, selecting, and finally rolling up his papers again. Then, when Edric felt there was nothing more to be done but depart, he also took up his hat, and they left the house in company. They walked side by side in silence for some distance. ‘¢T ought to have thanked you for your kind intentions in coming here,” he began, with a sort of snappish humility. “I’m sure you meant well. You must forgive a poor old man whose pride in his family is broken down for ever. I’ve other matters on my mind, too. Public grievances as well as private misfortunes.” He was guiding Edric by a series of short cuts towards the more frequented thoroughfares, and now they stopped at the door of a small public-house. He noticed Edric’s glance at the name: The Blue Dog, by P. Garraghty: and continued, slightly flurried. “I must explain. There is a meeting of parishioners here to-day. We have to concert measures to stem the tide of dangerous innovation that is sweeping over us. ‘There is a memorial to the bishop in pre- paration. ‘The crying scandal.” Edric was occupied hailing a hansom. ‘‘ Is it such a bad case?” he asked, inattentively. ‘1 should have thought you could have found worse elsewhere.” ‘‘ Nowhere, sir, nowhere,” with a fiery stamp of his umbrella; “that is, not to my knowledge. Not that I ever attend anywhere outside St. Fridolin’s.” Connicboooks (CO)