The Argosy — page 328: what you’re looking at

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

Margaret’s Frenzy. 307 When I went out she had sent for the violin. After some unac- countable delay, a man appeared, bringing a black box, which was like—and yet strangely unlike—the fiddle case. ‘‘ A creepy feeling ran down my back as I looked at it,” she said. “I sent the man to look again, but he declared there was no other black box among the luggage, except a hat-case. He grew quite violent about it, and I suppose I was excited, too, for the truth was beginning to dawn upon me. Finally, he ran away and got a screwdriver, opened the box, and started back with an exclamation which confirmed my worst fears. It contained that poor httle baby, looking as beautiful and peaceful as anything you can imagine.” “ How dreadful! But you must have recovered from the shock now, Margaret, dear P” ‘Shock? You don’t seem to realise that they have buried my violin.’ I dropped limply into a chair. ‘‘'There is not a moment to lose,” Margaret continued. ‘I must take the first conveyance back to Pieve. It breaks my heart to have you go on alone to Venice, and I shall feel uneasy about you every moment. But what can I do? Oh! dear, dear ; was ever anything so distressing !” ‘“Couldn’t we leave the fiddle till after our trip ? ” ‘How can you make such a wild suggestion, Kate? It would be ruined by lying so long in the damp earth. Prompt action may possibly save it from being buried at all. No, I must go at once to the rescue.” I saw that remonstrance would be perfectly useless; Margaret would be frantic if restrained. She could not go back to Pieve alone, because to explain her mission there, Italian would be necessary, and Margaret had not learned the language, which I spoke well. She had befriended me to her own inconvenience in a thousand instances already, and it was plainly my duty to stand by her now. She did not know how great the sacrifice would be for me, for I had not told her of my hope of meeting Herbert Stacy. After a brief, bitter conflict with myself, I said: “‘I will go back to Pieve with you.” And as I uttered these words I felt mentally all the torture which the wriggling saints on the wall expressed in their bodies. “But, dear child, you will miss the féte; there is not time for both.” “Never mind that. I didn’t feel much interest in it, anyway. It was the—the scenery I liked, and we have had the best of. that already.” I was determined to play my part of martyr gracefully, even at the expense of truth. ‘““How good of you, Kate! I hated more than words can express to go alone among all those queer people. I couldn’t explain my mission, and they would probably think me a murderess. Never mind! I will take you to Venice next year, if I have to go in rags to accomplish it.” : COM () VOO|kKS.CO