Penny Blood Serial Fiction — page 226: what you’re looking at

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

CHAPTER XVIII _ THE SPANIARD CouNT CHRISTOVAL was now thirty-five years of age, and though somewhat care-worn, yet in other respects his countenance was as prepossessing as on the first day when Elizabeth Paton met him amongst the Catalan hills. He wore his moustache, but his beard and whiskers were closely shaven, and their absence made him seem several years younger than he really was. His dark eyes shone perhaps with a more subdued and melancholy lustre than was their wont ere he had learned to love the English lady; but now, as he gazed upon her, they beamed with the hght of raptur- ous joy. The brilliant teeth shone between the half-parting lips, and in this moment of his ineffable delight, the rich warm blood of his trans-Pyrenean nature was mantling through the transparent olive of his complexion. He was dressed as a private gentleman. His apparel was in the best possible taste, and the closely fitting frock coat displayed the fine symmetry of his tall form to its fullest advantage. Hlizabeth Paton quickly recovered from the startled surprise into which the sudden appearance of Don Diego had thrown her, and with the natural generosity of her heart she chose to lose sight of the forced prisonage she had en- dured at his hands, and to think only of the kindness and attention received from himself and his associates in the Catalan hills. But while she extended her hand, she never- theless assumed a certain degree of reserve in gentle rebuke for the unceremonious manner in which he had burst into her presence. Yet it must be confessed that her mien was not exceedingly reproachful, because strong-minded though she were, she was nevertheless sufficiently a woman to feel that his conduct was most flattering to herself, 209 ECORNICLOOO ‘cS (F(©)