The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 64: what you’re looking at

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

THE MINISTER’S WIFE 47 disguise from yourself — I am sure you are too intelligent to make such an attempt — that the case of the unfortunate man in whom you are so deeply interested is no ordinary one? ”’ “TI know it, — alas, I know it but too well, lady!” re- sponded Kate, with profound mournfulness. “ Indeed, I have been made to understand that it is so. But surely, surely, there is mercy to be shown even to one who has so erievously offended against the laws of your country as he?”’ “Did my husband hold out no hope?’ inquired the lady. ‘‘ None? Not the slightest whatsoever? ”’ ‘‘ None, madam,’’ answered Kate, but as she thus spoke, the colour mounted to her cheeks an instant before so pale; and if her own life had depended on it, she could not have prevented herself from looking troubled and confused, this trouble and this confusion, too, being enhanced when she perceived that the minister’s wife was now gazing upon her with a peculiar manner of penetration. “ And his Excellency held out no hope? ’”’ said the lady, slowly emphasizing her words, and looking with keen earnest- ness at Kate, as if she did not altogether believe the response that had been given, and bade her tax her memory for something that lurked in the background. ‘Madam, I entertain no hope at the hands of your husband,’’ replied Miss Marshall; then, feeling that her confusion and her trouble were augmenting, and conse- quently becoming all the more visible, she burst into tears, exclaiming, passionately, ‘‘ All my hope is now centred in yourself and in Heaven.”’ The minister’s wife rose from her seat, with a certain ex- pression of countenance that appeared to be almost an- guished, and she turned abruptly aside; then, as suddenly accosting Kate again, she said, in a low voice, ‘‘ Miss Marshall, you have not told me all! I understand it. I comprehend the noble delicacy of your conduct, and I thank you.” And this voice in which the Spanish lady spoke was not merely low. It was likewise so altered from its natural ° tones that Kate was smitten with dismay; and gazing up into the countenance that was bent over her, as she herself retained her own seat, she saw that it was deadly pale, with that pallor, too, which is always the more ghastly and the more fearful when displayed by the face of a brunette. ‘The CORNICE OOOKS (EO)