The Argosy — page 266: what you’re looking at

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

7 : The White Cat. 247 the house. Something stirred behind the curtain at my side, and out sprang a large white cat, which, having been disturbed in its sleep, dug its claws into the carpet and arched its back in cat fashion, and then leapt into Dorothy’s lap. Dorothy began to fondle it, stroking its head, putting her head against its, and performing those many little tricks which ladies and cats enjoy. Now I abominate the whole feline race, but the thing I hate most in the world is a white cat. And this cat especially won my detestation. Its fur was spotlessly white, and the fact that I could find no fault with it made me hate it the more. Dorothy spoke to it and kissed the animal. Il loathed it. “] hate cats!” I cried. ““Popsy hates men,” Dorothy serenely replied. ‘ Mr. Arthur Jones, our curate, you know, is the only man she will allow to touch her.” ‘““Perhaps he is not the only Jones,” I said, feeling more jealous a © Let me try.” But Popsy did not approve of my patting. Somewhere from -her interior proceeded a low rumbling, her ears were laid by, and I judged it wise to relinquish the experiment. “We are to be enemies, then,” I said; and I fear I was scornful of Dorothy’s evident affection for the cat. Here Dorothy suggested that we should walk in the garden; I agreed, and that walk was the first of many. Before a fortnight passed, 1 was madly in love with Dorothy. I was distractedly happy ‘when in her company. But I felt some little uneasiness because of the Rey. Arthur Jones and the white cat. J had watched the reverend gentleman carefully. He was a bright, happy-faced young cleric, and his behaviour left no sort of doubt in my mind that he loved Dorothy. And his high spirits seemed a proof to 1ne, either that he had won the lady or fully expected to do so. Scarcely a night passed without my dreaming of him or the cat. In one of my dreams I saw an ancient Sybil warning me with outstretched finger to beware of the white cat, and as I gazed, fascinated, at the animal, the form of its countenance was changed, and I saw the curate’s face, wreathed in a triumphant smile. Time sped rapidly away. I went with Dorothy to pic-nics and garden-parties ; I took her for drives, walks and rides; I boated with her, played tennis with her, and listened to her singing. I regained my health, and lived in an Elysium. JI determined that my vaca- tion should not close without a question and an answer—mine the question, Dorothy’s the answer. I loved her; did she love me? I suffer from an embarrassing defect of constitution. I can talk to the bewigged solemnities on the bench without a quickening of pulse, but with ladies, if ever I wish to go beyond mere society talk, I become nervous and confused, and stammer painfully. Although I CORlNELOO© SS)