Guy Earlscourt's Wife — page 39: what you’re looking at

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

1er Once Mera a, and defying t attitude him- and laid down id hold of his his sister could much surprised est tones, “le: 18.” an this scene? an. I suppose no help for it. nus Aphrodite, make Tinsel & , energetically, gz angel in the aves and your orted, sternly ; axist, and tha » among them. ous habit you ng at nothing, ell me, sir—I ia,” Duke an- ; bad enough. tts says: ‘In ’t repeat it,” 1 her cruelest — allen in love.” — ou have com: have looked e haunted by wear an opal! from an.only rilling paus: wy a <3 Pe ‘ha Dawn of the Fourteenth of April. 33 “Tpon my word, Rosanna, there is no young woman. That is, there isn’t—she doesn’t—I mean-——” Rosenna shook her head bitterly. “That sounds very plausible, no doubt, brother Duke, but 1 doesn't deceive mie. ‘There isn’t, she doesn't,’ indeed ! Oh. Duke, have I brought you up to this time of day, and instilled the eatechism into you, only to see you come to this? The theatre was bad enough, but to fall in love! And next you will want to get married! Duke! Ll command you-— who is the hussy ?” “There’s no hussy in the case, and Vm not in Jove, and I don’t want to get married. Good gracious! Rosanna, what erime will you suspect a feliow of next? Upon my word and Lonor,” eried Duke, in a paroxysm of torture, “T haven’t a ywotion of getting married now. or ever—oh! there’s the postman. Don’t mind, Rosanna, VIl go.” ‘Duke bounced off his ladaer and rushed to the door. The postman handed him two letters, both addressed to himself. Rosanna Mason had never been guilty of epistolary follies, any more than other follies, in her life. One was from Tinsel & Spangle, reproving him sharply for recent; un- punctuality, and commanding an early attendance in the orchestra that evening, on pain ot a heavy fine. Duke flung this to the farthest corner of the roeewi, and glanced at the other, Slippery white satin paper, 9 faint odor of per- fume, a delicate, spidery female hand, a blue wax seal, with crest and a motto. 'N tha blood in Mr. Mason’s arteries rushed into his face; and there stood Rosanna- -that frigid, vestal virgin, with piercing eyes fixed on that furiously blushing face.- She saw his look, and answered it with sting- ‘:@ Sarcasm. “Oh! don’t mind me. Read your letter, by all means, and then tell me; when I ask you who it’s from, that ‘there isn’t— she doesn’t’—that ‘there’s no lady in the ecase’—and that you’ve ‘no notion of being married.’ Don’t mind adding a few more falsehoods to your al*eady overburdened con- science. Read vour letter, unhappy young man, and tell me it’s from those play-actor men, who employ you in their god- less work, if you dare!” One glance u. scorn and sorrow eombined, and Miss Mason stalked out to the kitchen. With a sort of ;-roan the badg- ered scene-painter opened the dainty missive, and read: You promised tu come to me if f should ever want you Cal The time has come when it remains for you to keep that promise. If you have any pity for an unhappy, friendless girl, you will come, at three o'clock to-morrow morning, to the address bee _comicbooks.com