The Argosy — page 22: what you’re looking at

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

Lady Grace. 9 “Tt soon will be true. ‘The man shall b2 held up, a spectacle to the world.” ‘Oh, papa, you must undo it, you must undo it! Do not losea moment. It was not Sir Everard who broke off the engagement ; it was I.” The Canon felt rather savage. He had only just come from a pitched battle with Miss Dynevor upon this very point, his will con- flicting with hers: Miss Dynevor was decidedly against the action, and told him it would be derogatory to his daughter and disgraceful to himself. Of course he did not listen to her; he never listened to anyone who opposed him; and he believed that his sister had now been sending Mary to him with an assertion that was not true. “You may go back to your aunt,” said he, ‘and tell her to mind her own business, and I’1l mind mine.” “T did not come at my aunt’s instigation, papa. It was from Regina I heard the news; and I have come to you to tell you the truth: it might have been better to tell it you from the first, as Sir Everard wished to do.” The Sub-dean stared at her through his great ugly spectacles, for he had been reading a letter when she interrupted him. ‘‘ What do you mean about ‘the truth?’” he sternly asked. ‘‘ What is the trath ? ” She laid her arms upon the back of a chair and seemed to lean her weight upon it: he saw that she was trembling. ‘The truth, papa, is that I refused Sir Everard ; so that if an action might be brought on either side it would be on his. He came home to marry me; but {—I—could not marry him: and he was so kind as to let it appear to you that it was as much his fault as mine.” ‘“* You broke it off? Of your own accord ?” ‘* Yes,” she answered. Dr. Dynevor paused to collect his senses; perhaps his temper. He took his daughter’s hand, placed her in a chair, and took up his standing before her, staring right into her face. ‘Your reason for doing that, young lady ?” “Oh, papa, I cannot tell you,” she said, bursting into tears. “Your reason?” he repeated. ‘‘You do not stir from my pre- sence till you have given it to me.” She was terrified at his stern tone, terrified at what the future might have in store for her, terrified altogether. Better let him know the truth and get it over, a voice seemed to whisper to her. ‘“‘ Papa,” she breathed, bending her face down upon the arm of the chair, “ I —I liked some one else better than Sir Everard.” ‘You liked ——” The Canon stopped: indignation and astonish- ment overmastered him. “Who is it P” he demanded, in an awful voice. She did not answer. What he could see of her face looked as crimson as his own sometimes was. ‘*Who is it, I ask?” he (S©) an comicoookKks