The Argosy — page 204: what you’re looking at

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

Some Leaves from a Life. 187 board: ‘‘She would not leave me,” she smilingly said, until I was in better hands. Of course she knew what I had come out for and to whom I was going. At last, when I had grown quite sick with apprehension, and Mrs. Dare was gently laughing at me,a lady and gentleman came on board, enquired for me, and introduced themselves to me and to the Captain as Mr. and Mrs. Stanley ; and they proceeded to invite me to stay at their house. Of course I enquired for Mr. Philip West. Mr. Stanley answered, with what looked like a strangely-embarrassed air, that he was gone “up country.” ‘‘ You had better go below with Miss West,” he added hurriedly, to his wife. She caught my hand as we descended to the empty saloon, and put me on the sofa beside her. I waited, with a sinking spirit, for what I knew must be bad tidings ; though my poor heart, with all its fears and forebodings, never went near the truth. Philip was dead, or Philip was sick unto death—that was what I thought. Mr. Stanley had followed us down. He paced the cabin; his wife only looked at me through her glistening tears; and neither spoke. It seemed the one was leaving it to the other. “Ts he dead?” I gasped. “Is he dying? Oh, tell me anything but that,” I implored in my great dread. ‘Tell her, Mary,” said Mr. Stanley, ‘‘for I cannot.” And he went up on deck. “Tell me,” I added, turning to her, my lips dry, my heart beating to suffocation. ‘‘ Whatever the truth, I can bear it better than this suspense.” ‘My poor child, my dear young lady,” said the good woman, ¢enderly, as she drew my head down upon her shoulder, ‘‘ how shal/ [ tell your He 1s married.” For. a few minutes I suppose I lost consciousness. I was stunned. But when that passed away, there swept through me such a surging storm of anguish, bitterness—almost shame—that I cannot bear to recall it even now. ‘To be wrath with one we love doth work like madness in the brain.” The hours that followed were awful hours. I asked no questions ; { wished for no particulars; the bare fact was enough for me. Philip had played me false; he had taken to himself another love, and made her his wife. And though I, of course, could not avoid hearing scraps and small details of the history, I shall not record them here. My new friends, Philip’s friends, Mr. and Mrs. Stanley, took it for granted that I should go on shore with them to their house, at least, for the present ; but I steadily refused to leave the ship. I would return in her to England, I said; nothing should induce me to set foot in India—to encounter, perhaps, the pity or the ridicule of strangers. No, I felt wounded to the death, and I would creep away somewhere and die alone. COMMICOOOKS.c©