The Argosy — page 259: what you’re looking at

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

240 Lady Postlethwaite’s Will. ‘She was afraid you were not coming. Did you never get a letter from her ?” ‘Never. But what does this mean? Lady Postlethwaite St. George? Has she married that man ?” Letty clasped her hands and looked piteously in my face. “Oh, is it not miserable? What can have possessed her? Did you know or guess anything of it when you were here ?” ‘Nothing. How should I?” ‘She may have been married to him even then. We don’t know when or where it took place. She must have been infatuated, poor dear, and then ashamed of it. I know she kept the secret as long as he would let her, but he got impatient and wanted to come here as master. I think people were getting a little tired of his preach- ing, and it was not paying so well. He has given it up, that is one good thing.” ‘* Are you staying here?” “In Azs house? No indeed! I left the very day I heard it. I took advantage of his being away to-night to come and see her. She was so overcome I hardly knew how to leave her. I will tell her you are here.” * She hurried away and I waited, looking around me. ‘The house had suffered visible change and deterioration. ‘The room smelt of tobacco, empty soda-water bottles littered the sideboard, a crumpled sporting paper was stuffed into the cushion of the dear old lady’s chair, and a card of racing engagements was stuck in poor Sir Josiah’s frame, which, like everything else, was thick with dust. Letty reappeared directly. ‘‘ You are to come to her at once, and you are to bring the will with you if you have the key.” I took out the key with a curious feeling that I had done it all before, and knew exactly what would happen next. I could see the packet through the narrow slit of glass, but the lock refused to turn at first. I withdrew the key, and found a tiny morsel of wax clogg ing the wards. ‘Then I tried again, this time with success. The packet was just as I had seen it when Lady Postlethwaite and I left it there. Lady Postlethwaite was in her bed-room cowering over the fire, wrapped in a big dressing-gown in which she looked grievously small and shrunken. Her face was drawn and aged, and tears came into her eyes as she held out a shaky hand tome. She held me tight as if feeling some comfort in the clasp of my fingers. ‘I wish it were your good father that had come, Mr. Philip. Fle’d maybe have had more pity for me than you young folks. I’ve been a foolish old woman and a very unhappy one.” ‘“We needn’t talk about it, need we? Can’t I do something to help you?” “Yes, you can. I was just wearying to see you. I’ve been thinking that though I’ve ruined all that’s left me of my own life, I CORNIELIOOLKKS (E() m