The Evil Genius: A Domestic Story — page 141: what you’re looking at

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

130 THE EVIL GENIUS. ‘No, Sydney. It was I whc proposed coming to London. You shall decide this time.” She submitted, and promised to think of it. Leaving him, with the first expression of troubie that had shown itself in her face, she took up the songs and put them into the pocket of her dress. On the point of removing the letters next, she noticed the newspaper on the table. ‘* Anything interesting to-day ?” she asked, and drew the newspaper toward her to look at it. He took it from her suddenly, almost roughly. The next moment “ne apologized for his rudeness. ‘* There is nothing worth read- ing in the paper,” he said, after begging her pardon. ‘* You Jon’t care about politics, do you ?” Instead of answering, she looked at him attentively. The heightened color which told of recent exercise, healthily enjoyed, faded from her face. She was silent; she was pale. A little confused, he smiled uneasily. ‘‘Surely,” he resumed, trying to speak gayly, ‘‘ I haven’t offended you ?” ‘* There is something in the newspaper,” she said, ‘*‘ which you don’t want me to read.” He denied it—but he still kept the newspaper in his own pos- session. Her voice sank low; her face turned paler still. i a it all over?’ she asked. ‘* And is it put in the news» per 99 ‘‘What do you mean ?” ‘‘T mean the divorce.” He went back again to the window and looked out. It was she easiest excuse that he could devise for keeping his face Surned away from her. She followed him. ‘*T don’t want to read it, Herbert. I only ask you to tell me if you are a free man again.” Quiet as it was, her tone left him no alternative but to treat ee brutally or to reply. Still looking out at the street, he said Yes,” ‘* Free to marry, if you like?” she persisted. He said ** Yes” once more, and kept his face steadily turned away from her. She waited a while. He neither moved nor spoke. Surviving the slow death little by little of all her other illu- sions, one last hope had lingered in her heart. It was killed by that cruel look, fixed on the view of the street. ‘Pll try to think of a place that we can go to at the seaside.” Having said those words she slowly moved away to the door, and turned back, remembering the packet of letters. She took it up, paused, and looked toward the window. The street still interested him. She left the room. CHAPTER XXXII, MISS WESTERFIELD. SHE locked the door of her bedchamber and threw off her walk- ing-dress; light as it was, she felt as if it would stifleher. Even the ribbon round her neck was more than she could endure, and breathe freely. Her overburdened heart found no relief in tears. ECONNIClOO KS,