Guy Earlscourt's Wife — page 75: what you’re looking at

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

rich “iss re to. be slin robe made all , instead [rs. Ham- Poliy, in- —ji heard Lirst wite td, and a as in love married her like he did—I oars after his lord- 1ed to his Her pic- son. ihe . has been ‘ing about ole of his ing no at- be his fa- loved, and r detested. oking, you angel!” Vs shocked n tv gr veo red by vne ‘st fellow’s rms went me to go? e oft these y8es out of —and God o At Montalien Priory. pless you, whatever happens. Mil call for you after theatre- time, and fetch you home.” He opened the door for her, while she looked at him won- deringly, to let her pass out. “But, Duke, you’re quite sure you'd Just as lief I'd go? Rosanna objects, but then Rosanna says we’re all worms, and objects to everything, except eating a cold dinner, and going to church three times on Sunday. But if you would rather I stayed——”’ “T had rather you would go—haven’t I suid so? There! run away, Polly, I must get back to work.” “Good-by, then,” Polly said, and the white dress and the short, yellow curls and pink roses vanished down the statr- way, and Duke went back to his work. The sun was low in the west, when the door of the paint- Ing-room was flung open, and Rosanna, pale and excited, stood before him. “Duke,” she gasped, “I never thought of it till this minute. I heard the name, and the truth never struck me. Lady Charteris is at Montalien, and Polly has gone the.c; and — Duke! Lady Charteris is our Polly’s mother!” CHAPTER II. AT MONTALIEN = PRIORY. Montalien Priory was just three miles distant from the cottage; its great boundary wall began almost where their little garden ended. <A vast and noble park spread along all the way to the right—to the left little cottages, standing in pretty, trim mardens. One of these, close to the*great entrance gates, Polly en- tered. Dozens of people, in their Sunday best, with happy faces, were making for the Priory. “Alice! Alice!’ Polly called, as she went up the little garden path, “are you ready ?” “Yes, Polly,” a voice from an open window answered, “wait a moment until [ find my parasol.” It was the cottage of Mathew Warren, the batliff, and Mathew Warren’s only daughter was Miss Mason’s elosen friend and confidante. She came out of the vine-wrehthed doorway now—pretty Alice Warren, two years Polly’s senior, resplendent in apple-green muslin, anid cherry ribbons in her rich, brown hair. There were peopie who called Alice War- ren the prettiest girl in Speckhaven, far pre ttier than Polly, who at thir ~«. sition age was a trifle.t°> ‘'Jn, and nale, for r -——— . = — ae 2 awa” et Sr. ea ee iti Ratan * niet, + wend ius rs F sere . ae we P3 ; ape» ar een Sor Po. segpgth ~ - a Tear ee a an prey - - "Aes md al A mgs tr 0 a . ate comicbooks.com