Guy Earlscourt's Wife — page 208: what you’re looking at

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

196 ‘“A New Way to Pay Old Debts.” your last hope; nerhaps you have-come to me to help you in your hour of weed.” “No, Frank.” Guy said, quietly, “I have fallen very low, but my misfortunes, or evil courses, which you will, have not quite turned my brain. I have never asked you for a far- thing yet, and T never will.” “And yet, you remember after our father’s death, | told yuu to come to me in your hour of need, and I would assist you. You were your father’s favorite, Guy; you are the son of the wife he loved; he left you all he had tu leave. I won- der how he would feel if he saw you now ?” “We will leave his name out of the discussion, if you please. And as neither now nor at any past time |} ever troubled your purse or your brotherly affection, you’re hit- ting a man when he’s down is in very bad taste, to say the least of it. I have neither come here to-night for sympathy nor money I know how much of either I- would get or de- serve to get. Shall I tell you why I have come?” “By all means—to say farewell, perhaps, on the eve of your. lifelong exile. What place of refuge have you chosen— Algeria, Australia, New Zealand, America? I should really like to know!” “T did not come to say farewell. I came to speak to you of—Alice Warren.” The elder brother started at the unexpected sound of that name. Not ouce had he seen her since the night he had vis- ited her in Barton street. “Alice Warren,” he said, with an oath; “what has Alice Warren to do with it? Do you expect me to look after your cast-off mistress when you are gone?” : “T expect nothing of you—nothing—how often must I re- peat it? And Alice Warren is no mistress of mine—of any man’s, I believe in my soul. Whatever she is, you are the scoundrel who has led her astray, under promise of marriage. Hear me out, my lord; I have come to be heard, and will. IEf you have one spark of manhood left, you will atone in some way for the great wrong you have done an innocent girl. You will not leave the fresh face you wooed down in Lin- colnshire exposed to the disgrace of London gaslight.” “) shall do precisely as I please in this, as in all other things. It is refreshing, really, to hear you, of all men, the defender of female innocence, of soiled doves, such as Alice Warren.” “At least no innocent girl’s ruin lies at my door, no man’s betrayal. I repeat, if you have one spark of manhood left, you ‘vill atone for the wrong you have done her.” “As how ?” with his sneering smile; “by a real marriage— comicbooks.com =m aa, - SS | <— =