Guy Earlscourt's Wife — page 35: what you’re looking at

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

Ans . fetch Cer te homc there—- { she leves mi a cottage than ly, half sadly, . And she has 218 your wile; ad, I hope you ie, and tendér, s of the earth. kindly on the friend, and | y one whom !| and command italien Priory, raved upon it, | of Columbia ok hands with tinge of con- service to you, y lord; I will was either to res of the two by which the d start. He st, and white he table. It days old, but ypers were as was reading roing, party- g-room, who list he came vy of Jegzatior Jourt, Stat- iw postponed sitively tixed aow you ‘ of WF Bing to stone. acti’ ie oe Z pee Bi elt ate Os tt nae pare. KGa: We ae ee . ae i “Married on the fourteenth. * night I will be in London, and to-morrow is her wedding Bday!” the surprise of the passers-by. ago she was my wife. all. I suppose it will be at St. George’s, Hauovet Square. = Well, I am not invited, nor expected, nor, I dare say, wanted, but still, Sir Vane Charteris, I shall go to your wed- ‘S ding.” % “Married to-morrow, to Sir Vane Charicris. > to-morrow comes, we wiil see!” Robert Hawksley. 29 for ie fourteenth of the present month. Ime -ciately atter the honeymoor, which is to be spent in Italy, Sir Vane and ‘ . . . ve 4 99 Lady Charteris depart for the brilfiant Viennese Court. Robert Hawksley read this paragraph, and read it again— Bslowly, painfully, with a face from which every drop of blood Wsurely receded. He held the paper before him, his eyes dilat- Bing, his face, his lips turning to the hue of ashes. No word, Boo exclamation escaped him; he sat as rigid as a man turn- | The waiter brought him his breakfast, and @stared at him aghast. He spoke ito him—he did not hear; he touahed him, and a pair of sightless eyes loaked up from ithe paper. | “?Kere’s your brekwist, sir—hanythink helse, sir?” But the words fell on dull ears. “Blessed if I don* think he’s Peoing to ’ave.a fit!” thought the waiter, and left him. % Robert Hawksley sat there, and read again, and again, that brief, commonplace paragraph in the Morning Post. Wait- Sers and customers stared alike in wonder at the young man, who sat with his untasted breakfast before him, and with sthat rigid, awfully corpselike face. He rose at last, and laid down the paper. The waiter ap- } proached, and he demanded his bill. He had touched noth- ing, but he paid it at once, and without a word walked out maT < Tae oe of the house. The bright April sun was shining, the streets were alive ® with people, but Robert Hawksley, seeing: nothing, hearing ® nothing, walked blindly on like a man in a dream. “Married!” The word tolled through his brain like a bell. And this is the thirteenth. To- He laughed aloud in an insane sort of way, rather to “And two years and a half Lord Montalien. was right then, after An hour later, and the express train was flying homeward, -¥ and Robert Hawksley sat gazing straight before him at the 4 flying landseape and blue English sky, with that fierce hunger * in his eyes, and his teeth clenched hard behind his auburn “Married!” That bell in his brain seemed still tolling. Well—-when comicbooks.com