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

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

A Love Story. 359 which put her in great danger, and necessitated their immediate presence. She was seriously ill, and lingered on in a precarious condition for some weeks, and I was back in town before they returned. But one day, not long after this visit, I was telling my friend, who happened to be in town, the story of my introduction to his wife, and concluded by saying I looked upon him as a man to be envied. ‘As how P” asked he. ‘Why, in being the husband of ——” ‘‘ Well, perhaps I am,” he interrupted. ‘Certainly I have the dearest little wife in creation.” ‘‘T have a great belief in eyes, you know,” said I, ‘‘ and in spite of the popular adage about dark eyes. I believe there is more stead- fastness and earnestness and truth and reliability in the calumniated fair hair and blue eyes of the North than in the black eyes of the South.” ‘‘ Possibly there may be,” he said, hesitatingly. ‘I don’t exactly see the appositeness of the remark.” ‘‘ Why, your wife has the most beautiful blue eyes I ever saw.” “My wife?” he exclaimed, and then, looking at me fixedly for a moment, he added: ‘ Do you know, old fellow, I am afraid you are not so much recovered as we thought. My wife’s eyes are a very dark brown.” ‘What! Why isn’t Then whois the lady with fair hair and blue eyes that we have been talking about all this time?” “Talking about all this time? Oh, I see now. You must mean Why, that’s my sister! ” Ferrers hereupon removed his cigar from his lips and remarked sententiously : “ There’s nothing like a clever man for running his head hard against a millstone occasionally. A woman would never have made such a mistake, nor indeed would a man of ordinary stupidity. The chances are that when you first saw these people the brother’s attention to his sister was due either to a desire to conceal from the world at large his real feelings for the cousin.” “Ah; it is all very well to be wise after the event,” laughed Talboys ; “‘ but I dare say you are nght.” “Not a doubt of it,” replied Ferrers. ‘‘ But go on with your story.” “Vou’re not tired of it?” ‘Not a bit.” “Then here goes.” Another year had gone and I was again in the same house, and was spending the last days of the Long Vacation, sometimes trudging across stubble and through turnips after partridges, sometimes walking over the most invigorating of Yorkshire moors after grouse. COMICOOoOKS.c© mn