Guy Earlscourt's Wife — page 218: what you’re looking at

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

206 “Camilla’s Husband.” to witness the theatricals. Bills printed cn white satin were passed around. ‘The play was “Camilla’s Husband.” “Ca: milla,” by Miss Atcherly, and the young artist, who is the hero of the piece, by Guy Earlscourt. “TIlis last appearance on any stage,” laughed his brother to Sir Vane, “before he goes forth into the outer darkness, te be seen and heard of no more. He was always a sort of pet with those people. He has sold out, ycu know, and must leave England within the week, or the Jews will be down upon him, and all his brilliancy, and all his beauty, will be wasted sweetness on the desert air of a debtor’s prison.” “Ilow you do hate your brother,” Sir Vane thought; “and you do not possess even the common decency to conceal it.” Perhaps many of those who read this have seen the play called “Camilla’s Husband.” A young lady, persecuted by a tyrannical guardian, makes her escape, and asks the first man she meets to marry her. The first man i¥ a strolling artist, who consents, marries her, receives a purse of gold, is told he is never to see or seek her again, and she disappears. Of course it ends, it ought to end, in the artigf saving her life, and eventually winning her love and herself. Paulina Lisle sat watehing the progress of the play, led away from the great trouble of her life in its interest. How well he played, she thought; how magnificently he looked! How like Camilla’s fate was to her own! Oh! if she couid but cut the Gordian knot of her difficulties by asking some: body to marry her too! It was the last scene of the last act. Camilla is hopelessly in love with her artist, and that moment is drawing near when she shall fling herself into his arms and declare that “Happy am I, since you are Camilla’s husband.” uy was playing superbly; and when, in the last moment, ‘he cpens his arms, and his wife falls into them, the whcle house burst forth into a tumult of applause, in the midst of which the curtain fell, and the play was over. “How well he acted,” a voice near Paulina said, as a young officer of the Guards arose with a military friend, “for a man irretrievably ruined. His debts are enormous; and nis old aunt has died, and left all to that cad of an elder brother. What a pity the days of Faust and Mephistopheles are over! Guy Earlseourt wou!d sell his soul to the Evil One, I verily believe, without = moment’s hesitation, for twenty thousand pounds! He must leave England in a day or two, and for- ever.” The speaker passed on; but his light-spoken woicus had heard and heeded. In that instant, as she listened, it _ “~~ comicbooks.com me © W. arm half: it Ww room a ve ée knev Sh frigh 6c’) cy 6c\ om | ae i col’ lea.” ey’ é¢ N 6s't' now tune sSweai tome Th