Guy Earlscourt's Wife — page 50: what you’re looking at

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

44 At St. George's, Hanover Square. [ie stopped, his voice husky, his eyes like live coals. “She has not forgotten—decidedly not—but at the same time she hast’t spoken of you to me. You are Robert Lisle, then ¢” The stranger dropped bis hand and turned abruptly away. “My name is Hawksley,” he said, coldly; “and I must see her. Yes, by Ifecaven!’—he clenched his strong, white teeth —‘eome what may!” “T should advise you-to hurry, then,” suggested Duke, po- litely. “They start for Italy in an hour's “time, I have rea- son to know, and if you miss her now it’s s all up! Brides domwt generally receive strange gentlemen on their wedding morning, but this seems an exceptional oceasion, and she nay see you. Shall I order you a cab and tell them where to drive?” said Duke, inwardly burning with curlosity. Mr. Hawksley nodded and sloueched his hat down over hi: eyes. The last of the aristocratie vehicles had vanished long before. Duke led the way to the nearest cabstand, and en- tered the hansom after the stranger. Mr. Hawksley might order him out, but he was willing to risk it. Mr. Hawksley did not, however; he sat with his hat over his brow, his arms () i C folded, his lips compressed under that beautiful, tawny beard. ie the whole way. A re “He looks like the Corsair by Medora’s deathbed,” reflected lin Duke. “He has a very striking pair of blue eyes. So has be 7 little Polly. Now wouldn’t it be rather queer if (Mr. Robert Bp ; | Hawksley, I think he said,) should ke Polly’s father?’ 3 P The carriage containing Sir Vane Charteris and his bride ; aan ) reached the mansion of Mr. Geoffrey Lyndith, in Park lane. a B The silence that reigned in Duke’s hansom reigned also in a: ; this elegant coach and four. The bride sat ike some marble BK bride, as pale, as cold; almost as lifeless—the bridegroom sat he with a leaden face of abject fear. ms, “Did Lyndith see him, I wonder?” he thought. “TITe left -. . the church before me. To be balked like this at the last hour, # after waiting so long, after risking so much. At the last . hour, when the game is all my own, to have him start up as if from the very earth. And I thought—we all thought—him _ dead two years ago.” di He let down the glass and loosened his neckerchief; some- i“ thing in the air seemed to choke him. He glaneed at his < bride, and a storm of rage at her, at himself, at Geoffrey Lyn- - dith, at that apparition in the church, swept through’ him. “I “She louks more: like a dead woman than a bride. What T will every one say? Why can’t she smile, or rouge, or do + something except look like that—death in life? I scarcely’ te know whether I love or hate her most—one dav or other she > comicbooks.com