The Argosy — page 168: what you’re looking at

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

| ) | . . ) } . Divided. 153 half-filled portmanteau. After a moment she stooped to pick up a tumbled petticoat, frilled and laced like a baby’s robe, and began arranging the untidy chaos that Denise chose to consider the right way to pack. «You are an incorrigible child to raise all this commotion,” she went on. ‘Why did you and your uncle never tell me that your poor husband did not know what you were doing ?_ It was not treat- ing me well.” ‘‘Ah! my poor uncle,” murmured Denise, her mischievous eyes shining. Madame Lenard gave a little cough before she answered ; she hoped Denise did not see the smile that, against her will, was wrinkling the corners of her lips. ‘Tt is not a question of your uncle. He was ill-advised; it all arose from his too great affection for you. My poor Denise,” she exclaimed, unable any longer to keep up a show of anger, “ why did you not come tome? I have always guessed that there were little troubles between you and Raoul. But I did not imagine how bad they were, nor how naughty and headstrong you could be. Oh, I have been grieving over it, I can assure you. It was not worthy of you, my child.” Denise shrugged her shoulders, murmuring something about tyranny, ennui, the selfishness of men. “Come, come! That is unjust,” said Madame Lenard, ‘'The poor fellow means all for the best; and, in this case, his reasons are excellent. If he is a little bit of a Puritan in regard to you, it is only because he is so foolishly fond of you that he fears contact with the world for you. These young men will be a little jealous. But what would you have? It is their way of loving.” “©!” exclaimed Denise, with a long drawn-out sigh. ‘ Love— love—love! What a bore it is.” “That is because you do not understand it. Some day you will learn your mistake. But take care, Denise. The knowledge may come too late. There are not many men capable of loving truly ; now that you have got one who adores you, do not thrust him from you in pride and temper. Child, child; how we must have spoilt you.” “Am I so bad then? Ah, yes; I suppose itisso. I do not deserve to be loved; is that it?” She had joined Madame Lenard, and was pretending to help her to pack, and now she looked up at her with rather sad blue eyes. ‘“T am hard-hearted and vain and wilful. Well! it is all at an end now. Next time you see me I shall be solemn and prim, with a black silk apron and clattering sabots, like the good people at Camper. Not a smile about me, I shall be so sedate,” she said, trying to laugh. “Is it not a charming picture?” ‘“ You will be charming whatever the picture may be—do not fear,” replied the fond old aunt ; ‘“‘and happy as well. Raoul would VOL, XLVIIL L GomiilGoaooks (CO)