The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 119: what you’re looking at

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

102 REYNOLDS’ WORKS catch his anguished wife in his arms. For, overpowered by the cruel violence of that blow which his words had dealt her, she was tottering and about to fall. | “Stephanie! Stephanie!” he exclaimed, half-petulantly, half-kindly. ‘* How foolish of you to provoke these scenes! ”’ yet he felt that he himself was wrong, though thus en- deavouring to fling all the blame upon her. “Forgive me, Jules,’ she murmured, feeling it was a luxury thus to be clasped in his arms. “ I do indeed see that my conduct has been very wrong. I know that I make you unhappy. Every day tends to convince me of my own failings, and that I am not fitted to be your wife. But bear with me, Jules, and I will endeavour — oh, I will endeavour — to be more guarded in future! ”’ ‘Well, well, Stephanie,” said the viscount, his conscience torturing him as lf a scorpion were planting its sting in his heart, “‘ let there be an end of this.”’ “There shall, Jules,” she murmured, smiling sweetly upon him as his arms still clasped her slender waist. ‘‘ But tell me that you love me. Do tell me that you love me — ”’ At this instant the door again opened, and the lackey reappeared, bearing upon the silver salver a letter which by some accident had been omitted from the batch previously brought in. The viscount became crimson, and turned away from Stephanie as if he had been caught embracing the wife of another instead of his own. The incident was a most untoward one. The quarrel —if such it could be called, where the quarrelling was all on his own side — had just been about to end in reconciliation, when the appear- ance of this servant made all Jules de Chateauneuf’s choler | rise up again. ‘‘ Stephanie, this is perfectly intolerable!’ he ejaculated, vehemently, and almost fiercely, the moment the lackey had again left the room. ‘‘ You disgrace me thoroughly. At first it is whining and crying, so that the servants think you are ill-treated; then it is this maudlin embracing, so that they will fancy I am begging your pardon, confessing I am a naughty boy, and that I will never do such a thing again. Now, all this is only bringing me into contempt, and when I next look my servants in the face, I shall see a sneering smile upon their lips. It is brought about by your folly —”’ CONNIE NO KS (E(0)