The Argosy — page 312: what you’re looking at

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

A Marnage in the Dark. 2&9 saw you seated at the piano in your white dress, with the fire-light glancing on your hair, I felt—I wish I could tell you how I felt.” Surely you are not afraid of a poor blind girl?” “Well, I am not quite so certain of that. You don’t know how formidable you can look at times, Miss Urquhart.” “1m sorry. I hadn’t the least intention of looking formidable.” ‘*‘ Formidably lovely, I mean.” ‘You ought not to say such things, Dr. Saxon.” “I can’t help myself; they come out against my will.” The doctor paused, and then went on in a sudden burst of energy. ‘I must make a clean breast of it, now or never. Dear Miss Urquhart, —Constance—the fact is, I love you. I have done so, it seems to me, from the first. Forgive my stupid, blundering way of saying it. I have come to ask you to be my wife.” A proposal of marriage! I could hardly believe my ears. Was the world coming to an end? So extraordinary and unlooked-for an occurrence fairly took my breath away, and rendered me for the moment speechless. But the doctor was a man of action, and had heard somewhere that silence indicates consent. His arm stole gently round my waist, and I felt his lips on my cheek. For a moment I let myself go. The sense of repose, of rest, of protecting affection, was too delicious, and I loved the doctor. I realised it now for the first time. Then I knew, or fancied I knew, that I was not doing my duty; and it is a pity that duty should be so often disagreeable. It did not seem to me that my way of life ran along such pleasant paths as these. I disengaged his arm and pulled myself together. ‘Dr. Saxon,” I stammered, “I am grateful to you, believe me; deeply grateful. But you must see that this is impossible. Marry a woman who will assist you to fight the battle of life ; don’t be dragged down by a poor sightless wretch like me. It is too great a sacrifice.” “Sacrifice! Rubbish!” the doctor cried. ‘‘ Who talks of sacri- fice? The only question is, do you care for me?” I turned my head aside; he was reading my face, I knew, and that was betraying me. The next moment he had me in his arms. “Ah, I see how it is,” he cried triumphantly ; ‘ you do love me, Conny, just a little, don’t youP” ‘Well, yes; if you must know.” ‘And you can talk of sacrifice,” he went on, still a little indignant. “The sacrifice is all on your side, if you only knew it, you lovely simpleton. How do you suppose a poor ugly devil of a hardworking commonplace doctor could hope to win one of the most beautiful women in England ’’-—for so he talked in his infatuation—“ if she had all her senses about her? I am simply the luckiest medical man in the United Kingdom.” COMICoOokKS.c© mn