Guy Earlscourt's Wife — page 41: what you’re looking at

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

f Apvil, 1 will confer @ sO generously O. L. ‘his note—the od left Duke’s thought of the t him to run 2 to elope with parlor, feeling e could hear r of cups and ». *T eouldn’t I thought she s bad enough worse to run e went out to meekly, and How was he uartern, with n his pocket? jpasmodically. strong virtue Il his econfu- tist said, with insel & Span- IT shall work the Britannia pood-evening, —this was a d, of course, d and ate on aternal good- ‘ed the strect blue, silvery nps twinkled. d a cloudless mnibus, and than he had ulated them- ond violinist : J 4 § Pe ag as dim in its silvery rays. «fe Dawn of the Fourteenth of April. 35 All through the five acts of the melodrama that night, Duke’s thoughts were away in Park lane, and he played false notes, and sometimes | Mod to play altogether. It was an unutterable relief when the curtain fell and the audience poured out into the starlit night, and he was free tu think as he pleased. tle turned away from the theatre, and his feet half unconsciously took him to Park lane. Two! by the numberless city steeples.’ Duke lit a cigar, and seated himself in an open square, where the trees made lowe shadows in the moonlit grass, and the laraps waxed What a strange, long night it was- Would he ever forget it—and how was it going to end!” Half-past two! He started up. He was a couple of miles away from Park lane—it would be three when he reached it. Still smoking, he hastened on. The big, black house in Park lane loomed up before him as the clocks tolled three. All was dark and quiet now. ‘The string of carriages had van- ished—the party three doors off had broken up early. He leaned against the area railings, looking up at the dismal, unlighted mansion, when a cold hand was suddenly and swiftly laid on his. He started, and barely suppressed an exclamation; he had heard no sound, yet here by his side stood a woman. “Hush!” said a voice; “not a sound. You are Duke Mason 2” “T am.” “Tell me the. name of her who sent for you?” “Olivia Lyndith.” “Thank Heaven! ‘Come down—tread softly.” ife descended the area steps, and stood beside her. was a tall young woman, but she was not Miss Lyndith. “T am the child’s nurse,” the girl said, answering that look. “Take off your shoes. The least noise may betray us.” Duke obeyed. Her deseription of herself was rather un- intelligible, though. The child’s nurse! and what had he to do with children? Miss Lyndith wasn’t a child, by any means. What did she mean? - There was no time to ask questions. He removed his shoes, nd followed her into the basement regions, up a flight of steps, and found himself in a lofty-domed and car- peted hall. The moon’s rays shone brightly, and tall marble statues gleamed like ghosts in its light. A great staircase, carved and gilded, went up in majestic sweeps to the regions above. A thick, soft carpet muffled the tread as Duke fol- lowéd her to a second stately hall, hung with pictures, and lighted by a large Maltese window. Many doors were on either side; one of these she opened, motioning the wonder- She comicbooks.com