Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 16, 1921 — page 54: what you’re looking at

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

WHITE HEATHER WEATHER. A ragged old man instantly stepped to the heads of the leaders, and at the same time the coachman sprang down and opened the door to the coach. While he was assist- ing the ladies out Samson clambered slowly, regretfully down. He had heard tales of London town, and the hideous fate of innocent, misled ladies! Before he could bring himself out of the shadow of his gloomy thoughts, however, the coachman had passed up the steps of the building and was now admitted with his two companions into a long, high, dark hall. Samson. followed reluctantly, and a sallow- faced servant closed the door behind them. The coachman called for the master of the house, for the entire party was weary from the journey and needed rest in their rooms. Samson hardly waited until the ser- vant was out of hearing before he voiced his suspicions. ““ Madam,” he said to the elder lady, “I like not this house, neither the air of it, nor the men who keep it. If my word has the weight of a feather in your judgment, I pray that you find some other lodging. My reasons—”’ It seemed to Samson that some sign passed swiftly between the coachman and the lady. “In the name of heaven, good friend,” she said impatiently, ‘‘ do not give me rea- sons now. Sleep is what I need.” At this rather sharp rebuff Samson drew back a pace, and at the same time a rat- faced man appeared down the hall and was instantly engaged in conversation by the-coachman; he began to bow and scrape at once. While they talked the girl stepped close to Samson. The vizard which she wore in traveling was still drawn over the upper portion of ther face; and though her eyes were unobscured, it seemed to Samson Integrity as though he were looking at her through a veil. “If my mother is round with you,” she said, “ forgive her. In the morning she will crave your forgiveness herself, Master Northam, and I, also, shall try to thank you.’ There was about as much formalism as there was graciousness in this speech, and Samson’s heart sank still further. 45 “On my honor,” he said hastily, “ I do not think of myself. But ”—and he drew a little closer to her and lowered his voice —‘‘let me speak six words openly. You put strange trust in this servant.” He ges- tured contemptuously toward the coachman. “No matter how long his family may have been in your service ’—here he thought he detected the faintest quiver of mirth about the lips of his masked lady—‘“ no matter how long he has served you, there is some- thing in him, madam, which I, for one, would not trust.” She had grown serious quickly before the end of his speech. “What have you learned?” she whis- pered. “‘ What has raised your suspicions? God knows, I am in peril enough!” Her’ fear was like wine to Samson In- tegrity. “If you are in danger,” he said, “ put your trust in me. Lean on my honor! Whatever I have or am is yours!”’ “* Ah!” said the girl. “I know you are strong. I have seen it.” She shuddered suddenly at the memory. “And brave, truly. But there are dangers in London for which strength and courage are no shield.” ~ “ Name them!” he whispered in an agony of anxiety. “Test me, but do not lay everything, as you seem to do, in the faith of this nameless—coachman! ” The same quiver of mirth touched the lips of the girl, and the sight of it sad- dened and angered Samson at the same time. She saw his flush and laid her hand impulsively on his arm. “Do not be angered,” she said. “I value you higher than you can dream, and if I cannot tell you what you wish to know it is not because I do not trust you first, and every man I know after -you!”’. A great warmth of sincerity breathed through her voice and the blood jumped in Samson’s heart. She ended with an alriost plaintive note: “You are not angered?” “Listen,” said the Puritan solemnly. “ Before I give up your service I shall give up my faith in you; and when I give up my faith in you I shall give up my faith in man and woman. This much I feel: that you are facing some great peril, and CORnMICLOO S (C@ S|