The Argosy — page 173: what you’re looking at

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

158 Divided. But now, most likely, he had lost patience with her. He had not once addressed her for the last three hours, or even looked at her. How big he was! with what a strong, determined face. It was not ugly, either, though it was rugged and sunburnt as that of one of the fishermen at Camper. He was as unlike the Parisian dandies as a St. Bernard is unlike a lady’s lap-dog ; as full of vigour and character as they were vapid and weak. She wondered what he would be like if once his temper got the better of him. It would frighten her, she thought, in spite of her courage and bravado. She realised how weak and powerless she was beside him; how easily he could crush her, morally and physi- cally, if he chose ! She did not guess that, for all his outward calm, there was a tem- pest of love raging so fiercely within him, that it was all he could do to restrain himself from telling her, then and there, how impossible it was for him to bear her coldness and indifference. ‘The whole of his vehement nature was shaken, and trembling, as it were, with longing to make her love him. It was maddening to sit like this, apart from her, in sullen silence, as though they were enemies, when his very soul was bursting with a devotion that was the more intense from its enforced suppres- sion, Denise,” he cried very suddenly ; ‘‘ for Heaven’s sake, love me.” JT will, Raoul, I will—if I can,” she said incoherently, startled by the passion in his face and voice, and letting him put his strong arms round her. ‘I would, indeed I would, if I could.” Cannot you? What can I do to make you? Am [ then such a brute, Denise, that it is impossible ? ” *’We are so different,” she faltered. ‘‘ We can never understand each other. What I like, you hate; what you lke, I hate.” “Tf I hate some things you like, it is because I know what they really are, and that they would hurt you, my little Denise. Except for letting you return on the stage, I would deny you nothing that I can possibly give you. Some day, when affairs are better, we will go yearly to Paris, But I cannot afford it yet. You know that, Denise. It is not my fault. I want to make you happy. I know you are dull at Camper; but you see it is my home. You would not have me give it up altogether? Denise, my bien-aimée, let me teach you to care for it as I care for it myself.” “QO, I will be better to you, if I can,” she said gently. ‘Let us make a fresh start, and see if we cannot be friends.” ‘Friends? No more than that, Deniser”’ She did not answer, but laid one of her hands in his deprecatingly. ‘Will it never be more than that?” he repeated. ‘Do not be afraid of telling me the truth, Denise.” ‘‘T cannot tell,” she whispered, shaking her head. He dropped her hand with a sigh, and did not press her further. Gomicbooks.co