The Argosy — page 36: what you’re looking at

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

Fathful unto Death. 23 be tempted on your side, no luck, as I look upon it, will follow the delinquent.” ‘‘T shall never break it, Lionel. I shall be faithful unto death.” « And I also, Heaven helping me,” he whispered, as he leaned towards me and kissed my lips. The kiss was followed by a heavy sigh. He seemed ill at ease. I think his love Zad left me, despite the kiss and the words. Voices at the gate proclaimed their return from the lecture. I got up in a fright to run to the drawing-room. Aunt Dinah would have scolded at our sitting in the little parlour without lights. It was in that same little parlour, lighted then by the spring moon, that I and Lionel Payne had made our betrothal. Aunt Di was in bed with headache that evening ; Margaret was gone up to give her some tea, and we were alone. ‘‘I swear to you, Grace, upon my solemn oath before Heaven, to be faithful to you until death shall part us,” he had said standing, his hands hfted—and he had made me take the same oath. Well, I asked nothing better than to keep it. But would hee If. As the weeks went on, events went on with them. David Malcolm became a frequent visitor at our house. He was a companionable earnest-minded man of about thirty years, who had travelled a good deal and was full of information. Not to be called a handsome man by any means, but when he smiled his face seemed to light up all over, and his brown eyes had a kindly laugh in them. Eva Bellair made a dead set at him: a man possessing three thou- sand a year was worth it. But Mr. Malcolm did not respond. Like ‘Tom, he allowed it to be seen that he should never care for her. So she threw her forces back with redoubled strength upon Lionel. And he seemed to drift away from me. Never another loving word had been spoken by him to me since that night when he re- minded me of his oath—and mine. Eva seemed to possess for him the fascination of a basilisk. It was with Eva he lingered ; with her he played at dominoes; over her he leaned to turn her music, his own fair head touching her purple-black hair. What was to come of it? What would be the ending ? I don’t think I had ever been so much taken to as one afternoon when David Malcolm came in and made me an offer of marriage. The rest were out, and he had found me alone. I stood like a sim- pleton, utterly at a loss for words. “Don’t you care for me, Miss East? Don’t you think you can ‘earn to care for me?” he implored, in my stupid silence. “Oh, I care for you very much; that is, I like you very much, but not in that way,” I stammered at last. ‘I cannot be your wife ; it is impossible.” ‘* Why is it impossible ?” CoOnnicboooks (CO)