Guy Earlscourt's Wife — page 55: what you’re looking at

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

d composure, ert Lisle ans » on the pas- With an cel it. | satled you satisfied pOn your es ag indeserib- . You were vas certainly imprudent as ie hard, glit- ose you and nalty to my- le,” the elder le advantage ‘do resort to ll oblige me entleman, if aed to claim in England, origines in- hight in tis alive? It 1s hear me out. ur wife—no, o claim her, 00 late. She after vour n, and then over Joved--- ith his tall, ad, abhorred r, In its true 1 fallen, how ind drageed ords, Robert ‘““Whistled Down the Wind.” 49 with an intensity I never possessed, The haunting fear lest her di. known to the world nearly drove her mad. She buried herself alive down at Lyndith Grange fora time—she went abroad with me. [ler seeret so proved Pupon her, that her health was affeeted. All this time her ® plighted husband, the man of her dying father’s choice, was ~ by her side, ever tender, ever devoted—-and she learned to know the full value of that which she had thang away, and } she loved him with a love, all the greater that it was tinged © with remorse. Then came the news of the loss of the ‘Royal Charter, and all on board, She was free! To remeniber * handing her the paper,” Mr. Lyndi th said, looking dreamily : before him, lke a man who behol Is what he relates: “ond pointing out your name among the list of lost. lor a mo- ment she grew deadly pale. She had always a tender heart; ~ poor child—and it seemed a horrible fate to be burned alive * in the midst of the Atlantic. Then she threw the paper ~ «clown, flung herself in my arms, and sobbed in wild hysterics: » ‘Oh, uncle, she cried, ‘is it wicked to be thankful to Tleaven for even an enemy’s death? And | liked him once, and his ~ fate has been an awful one, and yet my heart has no room | for anything but thankfulness that I am free. Now the ex- * posure of a divorce court will be unecessary—an exposure © which I think would kill me. Thank Heaven, without it he * has given me back my liberty ! And after this she rallied, ~*~ and gave Sir Vane her promise to become his wite.” Robert Lisle listened to this lengthy speech, with a smile of cynical seorn on his handsome bearded mouth. “You were always an orator, Mr. Lyndith,” he said, » quietly; “spouting was ever your forte, I remember, and ~ graceful fiction quite a striking trait in your character. I see time but embellishes your talents. In plain Inglish, I don’t believe one word you have told me. Olivia Lyndith was not the sort of woman to whistle a lost lover down the wind, after any such fashion—much less the husband she loved— Ileaven! loved so dearly!” His face softened; that of Geoffrey Lyndith grew black with suppressed fury. “Vou are an insolent boor,” he said, “but you were aiways that. ‘Two years’ sojourn among the refuse of the world transatlantie cities should hardly be likely to improve you. IT tell vou Olivia Lyndith never was your wife---never! You are alive, but no*divorce will be needed. A girl of sixteen runs away to Sevtland and goes through some sort of Seotch ceremony, that muy pass for marriage beyond the border. It will not holdin England, as you very well know. A minor | Lishk- ‘dreamed she eee seeret should be she hated your memory ea tee COmiICcDOOKS.cOom