The Argosy — page 119: what you’re looking at

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

104 The Story of Charles Strange. “What has he gone to Marshdale for?” retorted Blanche, her cheeks flaming. ‘‘ And what did he go to Pisa for when we were last in Paris?” continued she, without any pause. ‘‘ He ad go. It was in December; and he was away ten days.” ‘Well, I suppose some matter or other called him there,” I said. ‘‘As to Marshdale—it is his place; his home. Why should this annoy you, Blanche? A man cannot carry his wife with him everywhere.” ‘* 7 know,” she said, catching up her fan, and beginning to use it sharply. ‘‘I know more than you do, Charles. More than he thinks for—a great deal more.” “It strikes me, my dear, that you are doing your best to estrange your husband from you—if you speak to him as you are speaking now. ‘That will not enhance your own happiness, Blanche.” ‘The fault is his,” she cried, turning her hot face defiantly upon me. “Tt may be. I don’t think so.” ‘He does not care for me a¢ a//. He cares for—for—somebody else.” ‘You may be mistaken. I should be sorry to believe it. But, even should it be so—listen, Blanche—even should it be so, you will do well to change your tactics. Z7y and win him back to you. I tell it you for the sake of your own happiness.” Blanche tossed back her golden curls, and rose. ‘‘ How old- fashioned you are, Charles! it is of no use talking to you. Will you sing our old duet with me—‘ I’ve wandered in dreams ?’” ‘Ay. But I am out of practice.” She had taken her place on the music-stool, and was playing the first bars of the song, when a thought struck her, and she turned round. ‘Charley, such a curious thing happened this morning. I saw in the Zzmes a list of some escaped convicts, who had been on their way to Van Dieman’s Land, and amongst them was the name of Thomas Heriot. For a moment it startled and frightened me.” Her eyes were upon my face, so was the light. Having a piece of music in my hand, I let it fall, and stooped to pick it up. ‘‘ Was it not strange, Charles?” ‘Not particularly so. There may be a hundred Tom Heriots in the world.” ‘“’That’s what Archibald said—or something to the same effect. But, do you know, I cannot get it out of my head. And Tom’s not writing to us from India has seemed to me all day more strangely odd than it did before.” “India is a regular lazy place. ‘The heat makes people indolent and indifferent.” ‘Yes, I know. Besides, as papa said to me in the few minutes we were talking together before he went away, Tom may have Gomilcbooksrco m