The Argosy — page 268: what you’re looking at

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

The White Cat. 249 come close to Dorothy, and my right hand was approaching hers. I felt a sharp pain in my fore-finger ; and the white cat flew out of the window recess, glared and spat upon me, and sprang into Dorothy’s lap. I stood up and cursed that cat; Dorothy uttered a little cry ; Lady Pownceby awoke, and said “Dear me! Have I been asleep ?” and a servant entered and said, ‘‘The dog-cart is waiting for Mr. Oswald Jones.” I had time only to see my boxes carried out and to take a hurried farewell of my hostess and her niece, and then I was driven away to the station. And I had not asked my question ! Lh For the next two months I devoted myself exclusively to my work I heard no concerts, saw no plays, ate nobody’s dinners but my own ; but took my guineas as they came. I had leisure to reflect. I anathematised the white cat, and regarded myself as one with whom the gods had dealt hardly. But for the cat, I might now have been the happiest instead of the most miserable of mortals. I began to see dimly that I had made a fool of myself. I had had months in which to say my say to Dorothy; and then what an exhibition I had made of myself at the last moment! A week before Christmas I received a kind note from Lady Pownceby, asking me to give her and her niece—and her mzece /—the pleasure of my company during Christmas week. I laughed at the thought of it. I replied by return of post, excusing myself very emphatically, and made up my mind with some bitterness to spend Christmas in bachelor solitude. On the morning of Christmas Day, I found awaiting me when I came downstairs from my bedroom a large hamper. With a fervent benediction on the kind, thoughtful soul who had shown such practical sympathy for my forlorn condition, I cut the cord. What pictures in my mind of mince pies and other Christmas delicacies! What anticipation of the delight of teeth meeting teeth in the seasonable turkey! I raised the lid—but drew back with almost a scream, for out of the basket sprang, not vivified mince pies or a resuscitated turkey, but my sworn enemy, the white cat! What surprise! What disappointment! What disgust! What my still greater surprise when the cat, instead of spitting and swearing at me as was her wont at Barkington, now raised her inoffensive tail and arched her graceful back, and rubbed her irreproachable white fur against my legs! The cat had become friendly towards me. I divined that it was hungry, and placed some milk before it, for which it purred its thanks. When I thought of this strange event, I came to the conclusion that a deliberate insult had been intended. I grew exceedingly wrathful. And I felt sceptical of the love which could consign its VOL. XLIX. Q* GomiilGcaooks (©)