The Argosy — page 191: what you’re looking at

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

174 Lady Valeria. He said no more till they were alone together in the great, empty, gloomy dining-room. ‘The butler hastened to fetch lights, but his master ordered them away impatiently, and they sat in the gathering twilight. ‘What did you suppose I meant by that message?” he asked, standing upright on the rug before the empty fire-place. ‘JT have been trying in vain to imagine. Something serious has happened. Nothing else would warrant the wording. I am at a loss to understand why you should need me.” ‘Because I felt I could not live through another day alone with the knowledge I have gained,” broke in Meynell, in a tone so like his mother’s that Eustace started. ‘‘ You know the story. It comes from a fresh quarter this time, that is all. I had a visit on Saturday from Stephen Magrath.” ‘I don’t believe it,” said Eustace, sturdily. ‘‘In the first place he doesn’t exist.” ‘He does. He says he had his own reasons for leaving America quietly, which may explain the report of his death.” “And he made some claim upon you?” ‘And a good one. Stannard !”—approaching and laying a heavy hand on his arm—‘“ that man—sStephen Magrath as he calls himself —ais my elder brother.” ‘“T don’t believe it,” again said the Vicar, but Meynell was silent. ** What is his story ?” he asked. ‘His reputed mother confided his whole history to him, and gave him, by way of token, some few valuables that she had preserved—a miniature of his father, his signet-ring, watch and chain ;—and with these as credentials he contrived to gain admission to my mother; I don’t know how or when, but recently, within the last twelve months. She gave him a letter to be given to me after her death, acknowledg- ing him and praying me to do the same. Poor mother! poor mother! No wonder we often thought her mind wandering. How could she live without the burden of this secret driving her raving mad ?” Eustace was always touched by the change in the dry, harsh tone that the mention of Lady Valeria caused. Devotion to her was as nearly a passion as the man had ever felt in the course of his formal, orderly, measured existence. He walked to the window, and, leaning on the frame, gazing out into the dusky street, added in a strained, low tone, ‘‘She says she could not look in my face again, knowing that I knew her story. Why, do you think, should she say that ?” ‘ How can I tell?” said the other, almost roughly in his alarm. ‘She was afraid you would be angry at finding yourself supplanted.” Then impatiently, as Meynell shook his head : ‘ Then she feared you would resent her want of confidence in you—this long concealment of anything so important to the family. Won’t that account for it ?” He longed to hear Meynell’s answer, while recollections of some of Lady Valeria’s wild words and his own wilder imaginings flashed CORMICMOOOKS.E©