The Argosy — page 382: what you’re looking at

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

Paul Smith, A.R.A. 361 you as a wife. Hush!” she continued, as he sought to interrupt her. “Hear me out. That day—so long ago—I called at the studio, and accidentally overheard your conversation with Hugo Somerville. Determined that you should not have the chance of spoiling your life by marrying me, I went away and changed my address. Your friend found me out, and by his goodness and chivalry won me.—And now it may be as well to be clear upon one point, an important one. That is, that, wealthy as I am reputed, in marrying again, the only fortune I bring my husband is—myself, Isabel Somerville, née Gray. The Somerville estates and moneys pass from my hands, leaving them empty.” With a pretty and beseeching gesture, she opened her hands towards him, drawing them back hastily as he stretched out his own. ‘“T am sure you do not care for a penniless bride, any more than I care to be a burden to the man I may wish to marry.” Again she held out her hand, with quiet dignity, saying only the words ‘ Good-bye.” How would he bear the ordeal, she asked herself. To her intense joy, his countenance remained unchanged, he betrayed no disappoint- ment. He was prepared to make any sacrifice to winher. Clasping her hand in both his own, he answered her Good-bye. “‘ Better so, my darling; I want you, yourself, not your surroundings. Thank Heaven, I have more than enough for both, and you shall never miss the luxuries which have been yours. You shall never regret giving yourself to me. I would rather you owed something to me, Isabel.” His voice was earnest and truthful, and his eyes met hers with a trusting look. With a happy sigh, she laid her hand caressingly upon his. A shadow crossed his face as his glance fell upon the wedding-ring encircling her slender finger. It was buta momentary pang. Had she seen it, he asked himself on his homeward way, as he lived the happy hour he had passed with her over and over again. At her earnest entreaty, he had reluctantly left her, to return again in the evening. And she was alone, once more, with her new happiness ; alone, but never to feel lonely again. Face to face with a future dawning afresh from out the dim yet unforgotten past. The past! As the words rose to her lips she shivered ; the look of aversion he had cast upon her wedding-ring, the symbol of another’s love, pleaded for this last sacrifice. Had she not given away her heart, had she not promised her hand? Slowly she drew off the golden token of love placed there by the hand of a loving husband now dead, and taking a key from a chain she always wore, she opened an ebony and ivory inlaid cabinet, and pressing a spring, disclosed a deep drawer behind a recess. Kissing the little ring sadly and pitifully, she dropped it in. It fell upon a sealed letter. She started nervously as the ghost of ECOnnicboooks (C©) im