The Evil Genius: A Domestic Story — page 68: what you’re looking at

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

THE EVIL GENIUS. sy reserves of self-control; she started to her feet, and ran vut of the summer-house. Alarmed and distressed, he followed her instantly. She was leaning against the pedestal of a statue in the garden, panting, shuddering, a sight to touch the heart of a far less sen- sitive man than the man who now approached her. ‘‘ Sydney!” he said. ‘‘ Dear little Sydney! She tried to speak to him in return. Breath and strength failed her together; she lifted her hand, vainly grasping at the broad pedestal behind her; she would have fallen if he had not caught herin hisarms. Her head sank faintly backward on his breast. He looked at the poor little tortured face, turned up toward him in the lovely moon- light. Again and again he had honorably restrained himself—he was human; he was a man—in one mad moment it was done, hotly, passionately done—he kissed her. For the first time in her maiden life a man’s lips touched her lips. All that had been perplexing and strange, all that had been innocently wonderful to herself in the feeling that bound Sydney to her first friend was a mysterv no more. Love lifted its veil, Nature revealed its secrets in the one supreme moment of that kiss. She threw her arms round his neck with a low cry of delignt, and returned his kiss. ‘‘ Sydney,” he whispered, ‘‘ I love you!” ; She heard him in rapturous silence. Her kiss had answered or her. At that crisis in their lives, they were saved by an accident— a poor little common accident that happens every day. The spring in the bracelet that Sydney wore gave way as she held him to her; the bright trinket fell on the grass at their feet. The man never noticed it. The woman saw her pretty ornament aim dropped from her arm—saw, and remembered Mrs. Linley’s gift. Cold and pale—with horror of herself confessed in the ac- tion, simple as it was—she drew back from him in dead silence. He was astounded. In tones that trembled with agitation, he said to her, ‘* Are you ill?” ‘**Shameless and wicked,” she answered. ‘‘ Not ill.” She pointed to the bracelet on the grass. ‘‘ Take it up; I am not fit to touch it. Look on the inner side.” He remembered the inscription: ‘‘ ToSydney Westerfield, with Catherine Linley’s love.” His head sank on his breast; he understood her at last. ‘‘ You despise me,” he said; ‘‘and I deserve it.” ‘*No; I despise myself. I have lived among vile people; and I am vile like them.” She moved away a few steps with aheavy sigh. ‘* Kitty!” she said to herself. ‘* Poor little Kitty!” He followed her. ‘‘ Why are you thinking of the child,” he asked, ‘‘ at such a time as this?” She replied without returning or looking round; distrust of herself had inspired her with terror of Linley, from the time when the bracelet had dropped on the grass. ‘*‘T can make but one atonement,” she said, ‘‘ We must see COMMICLO® S (ECO) im