The Bride Elect: or, The Doom of the Double Roses — page 155: what you’re looking at

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

146 THE BRIDE ELECT. French coiffeur flashed like trembling sparks, and her velvet black eyes fell on Florice Calvert, straight and un- faltering. Calm, sweet, and interested was that glance, then with a coming shadow of suppressed concern in her lovely eyes, she glanced over at the pale, clear-cut face of my Lord Audley opposite, and conveyed his regards to the little plebeian sister, and smiled. _ Ah, poor Florice! With a start, and a shuddering gasp she shrank back, with her tender heart pierced through and through; then, as if she could not believe Glencora’s heartlessness, she turned one long, wistful look upon my lady, and face to face they regarded each other at last, over the impassable gulf which treachery had placed be- tween them. } | Lady 'Tresilyan was really much interested; she bent for- ward, and with an amiable half-smile, she seemed trying to make friendly overtures to the little girl in the white bon- net, over the breadth of the church, and as my lord had been called upon to examine the stranger too, he looked at her condescendingly with his penetrating violet eyes, as if it was a very pretty little face indeed, and then, with a quick glance at lowering-faced Captain Drummond, he looked over to his fair lady, and they exchanged glances. Then while Florice sank back for the last time, and lifted up her face no more, gay Lady Tresilyan whispered in my Lady Clara’s ear, and she turned her Spanish-looking face to look at the plebeian’s, and instantly began to communicate some- thing very volubly to her ladyship, her eyes fixed on Flor- ice’s face all the time, and my lady looking amused, until an interruption came in the shape of the people rising up, and the organ preluding for the closing hymn. “Courage, my girl,” muttered Anthony Drummond, drawing the mechanical form of Florice before a pillar, in order to secretly support her with his arm. ‘‘ We’re not browbeat yet. Ill unmask yon painted hypocrite if the lordling should drive his coach and span overme. They’ve got no cockle-boat to deal with.” Slowly the mass of people began to move out. Captain Drummond remarked with some relief that the aristocrats in the general’s pew still kept their seats, and he also no- ticed with an indescribable sensation of anger, that Lord Tresilyan had risen and drawn the velvet curtain quite Gomicbooks (E(0)