Guy Earlscourt's Wife — page 224: what you’re looking at

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

212 ~ @On Christmas Eve. bless God! bless God! and I never though:.'o see you again my darling.” Morning dawned—-the morning of Christmas Eve. Thou- sands of happy people awoke in the great city to wish each other “Merry Christmas,” but I doubt if among them there was one happier than this poor creature, in her bleak lodg- ing, waiting for the coming of her idol. She paid the land- lady, dressed herself in the sickly dawn, and stood by the win- dow watching. It was snowing fast—the wind blew cold and shrill, and her garments were wretckedly thin. The landlady pityingly made some such remark to her. But Alice only laughed. “T shall feel no cold, Mrs. Young; and I shall soon be beyond feeling cold, or ill, or lonely, any more.” She had uttered a propheey—poor Alice. As the hopeful words passed her lips a one-horse vehicle drove up to the door, and she saw Frank, muffled beyond any recognition but her own, sitting’ therein. She gave a little ery of delight. “Good-by, Mrs. Young,” she said; “and thank you for your kindness when I was 111.” She ran downstairs and out of the house. The man leaned forward and helped her up beside him. And then the whirl- ing wilderness ot snow shut them from Mrs. Young’s sight. He did not speak one word. The wind and the snow were driving in their faces, rendering speech impossible. ‘The morning light was still dull and pale—the city clocks weve only tolling eight as they quitted the Strand. He drove across one of the bridges, and out to some dismal waste ground in the neighborhood of Battersea, a-remote and forgotten tract, as wild, and lonely, and forsaken as an African desert. And here for the first time he spokes “There is something the matter with the horse,” he said; “vou must get out.” | He sprang out himself and gave her his hand to descend. They were close upon some deserted brickfields, and he made a motion for her +o foliow him. “Come out of the storm,” he said: there is a place of shelter near.” He seemed strangely familar with the desolate locality. He ied her to a sort of dry*ravine, so hidden away among rubbish and the debris of the forsaken brickyards as to ren- der entering almost an impossibility. She shrank away in almost nameless fear. “Frank !? she cried, in a frightened voice. “I can’t go inte —_ hideous place; Oh, my God, Frank! what are you going to dof - ta: ele de kil hay the hea pas: whi bow tho. ceed sue Pe secre toget G coac cp hope arm Sh He to en solace} Th Guy eer ’ He arm, comicbooks.com