The Argosy — page 189: what you’re looking at

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

172 The Lady’s Coin. great house, to please some great lady’s fancy, on that New Year’s Eve. “You are dying to tell it, Palmer, at all events; so tell on,” said the Marchioness, languidly. “Tt was my cousin, my lady ; I had it from the cousin I told your ladyship of, who came up from the country in October: nurse at the Wall Street Union, my lady, if you remember. She looked in just now, being out for an hour or so; it cheers her up to see me sometimes, poor girl. It was a man who died this afternoon in the Union, my lady ; how she can have the nerve, I’ve no idea! she had actually laid him out.” “There, that will do, Palmer,” said the Marchioness: ‘‘ What about the man P? ” “Well, he died, my lady—and before he died, he made my cousin promise that something he wore round his neck should be buried with him. On his heart, my lady. And my cousin, she’s keeping her word.” ‘‘ And what was this mysterious thing? ‘Therein, I suppose, hes the romance,” said the Marchioness, lightly. “Yes, my lady. Never did I hear! It was the half of a sixpence, with a hole in it ; and he’d had it strung round his neck by a bit of cord. It was an old sixpence, most beautifully marked—my cousin says she never saw such cleverness—with a name cut out in the silver ; and under the name: ‘New Year’s Eve, /57.’ And there it lies on the poor fellow’s heart.” ‘And the name? ” “Are you feeling unwell, my lady? Shall I get you some sal- volatile ? ” ‘““No.—Go on.—The name. What was the name?” ‘The name was ‘ Nelly,’ my lady. That was the inscription :— ‘ NELLY. ‘ New Year’s Eve, ee Some sad story belongs to that, my lady, we may depend. The man —my cousin believes he was a gentleman once. He’d only been in a few days; brought from some poor lodging, in a state of destitution, she said. They think he gave a wrong name—‘ John Brown,’ or some such, he called himself. But he seems to have had no one belonging to him! ” “And he had worn—that—all those years ? ” “Thirty years, my lady,” he said. “Thirty years to-day. My lady, I must really get you the sal volatile. | Your ladyship’s gone as white as a sheet ; it’s that nasty palpitation again !” ‘Yes, Palmer, you can leave me for a little while. I will ring. 1 must be quiet.” The maid was alarmed, but she knew the Marchioness too well to GomilGcbooks. co mn