Wood_East_Lynne.txt topic ['13', '324', '378', '393']

the dead face for a minute or two, his fingers touching
the forehead; but what his thoughts or feelings may have been, none
can tell. he replaced the sheet over her face, and followed the
earl.

descended in silence to the breakfast-room. was
seated at the table waiting for them. " /could/ all your eyes
have been?" exclaimed the earl to her, after a few sentences,
referring to the event just passed.

" where yours would have been," replied , with a touch
of her old temper. " saw as well as we did."

" not continuously. two or three times in all. do not
remember ever to have seen her without her bonnet and veil.
should not have recognized her is almost beyond belief."

" /seems/ so, to speak of it," said ; "but facts are
facts. was young and gay, active, when she left here, upright as a
dart, her dark hair drawn from her open brow, and flowing on her neck,
her cheeks like crimson paint, her face altogether beautiful.
arrived here a pale, stooping woman, lame of one leg, /shorter/
than --and her figure stuffed out under those sacks of
jackets. a bit, scarcely, of her forehead to be seen, for gray
velvet and gray bands of hair; her head smothered under a close cap,
large, blue, double spectacles hiding the eyes and their sides, and
the throat tied up; the chin partially. mouth was entirely altered
in its character, and that upward scar, always so conspicuous, made it
almost ugly. she had lost some of her front teeth, you know, and
she lisped when she spoke. her for all in all," summed up
, "she looked no more like who went away from here than
look like . get your dearest friend damaged and disguised
as she was, my lord, and see if you'd recognize him."

observation came home to . gentleman whom he
knew well, had been so altered by a fearful accident, that little
resemblance could be traced to his former self. fact, his own
family could not recognize him: and /he/ used an artificial disguise.
was a case in point; and--reader-- assure you it was a true one.

" was the /disguise/ that we ought to have suspected," quietly
observed . . " likeness was not sufficiently striking to
cause suspicion."

" she turned the house from that scent as soon as she came into
it," struck in , "telling of the 'neuralgic pains' that
affected her head and face, rendering the guarding them from exposure
necessary. , , that the had been with
her in , and had never suspected her. also another
thing, that, however great a likeness we may have detected, we could
not and did not speak of it, one to another. 's name is
never so much as whispered among us."

": all true," nodded the earl. they sat themselves down to
breakfast.

the , the following letter was dispatched to . .

" -- find shall not be able to get to you on
afternoon, as promised, but will leave here by the late train
that night. you don't sit up for me. is
here for a few days; he sends his regards to you.

" now, , prepare for news that will prove a shock.
is dead. grew rapidly worse, they tell me, after our
departure, and died on night. am glad you were away.

" from the children. and are still at 's;
wearing out 's legs in the nursery.

" yours, my dearest,
" ."


course, as , the governess, died at . 's house,
he could not, in courtesy, do less than follow her to the grave.
decided , when they found which way the wind was going to
blow. followed also, to keep him company, being on a
visit to him, and very polite, indeed, of his lordship to do it--
condescending, also! remembered another funeral at which
those two had been the only mourners--that of the earl. some
curious coincidence the governess was buried close to the
earl's grave. good there as anywhere else, quoth .
happened to be a vacant spot of ground.

funeral took place on a morning. plain, respectable
funeral. hearse and pair, and mourning coach and pair, with a
chariot for the . . . pall-bearers or mutes, or anything
of that show-off kind; and no plumes on the horses, only on the
hearse. looked on with approbation, and conjectured that
the governess had left sufficient money to bury herself; but, of
course, that was . 's affair, not 's. enough
lay she in her last resting-place.

left her in it, the earl and . , and entered the
mourning-coach, to be conveyed back again to .

" a little stone of white marble, two feet high by a foot and a
half broad," remarked the earl, on their road, pursuing a topic they
were speaking upon. " the initials '. .' and the date of the
year. more. do you think?"

". . .," corrected . .

"."

this moment the bells of another church, not . 's, broke out
in a joyous peal, and the earl inclined his ear to listen.

" can they be ringing for?" he cried.

were ringing for a wedding. , by the help of two
clergymen and six bridesmaids, of which you may be sure was
/not/ one, had just been converted into . . took
a thing into her heard, she somehow contrived to carry it through, and
to bend even clergymen and bridesmaids to her will. . was
blest at last.

the afternoon the earl left , and somewhat later
arrived at it. scarcely gave her mistress time to step into the
house before her, and she very nearly left the baby in the fly.
anxious was to hear all particulars as to whatever
could have took off that governess. . was much
surprised at their arrival.

" could stay away, , even until , after the news
you sent me?" said . " did she die of? must have been
awfully sudden."

" suppose so," was his dreamy answer. was debating a question with
himself, one he had thought over a good deal since night.
he, or should he not, tell his wife? would have preferred
not to tell her; and, were the secret confined to his own breast, he
would decidedly not have done so. it was known to three others--to
, to lord , and to . trustworthy and
of good intention; but it was impossible for . to make sure
that not one of them would ever, through any chance and unpremeditated
word, let the secret come to the knowledge of . . would
not do, if she must hear it at all, she must hear it from him, and at
once. took his course.

" you ill, ?" she asked, noting his face. wore a pale,
worn sort of look.

" have something to tell you, ," he answered, drawing her hand
into his, as they stood together. were in her dressing-room,
where she was taking off her things. " the evening when
got home to dinner told me that she feared was
dying, and thought it right to see her."

"," returned . " right."

" went into her room, and found that she was dying. found
something else, . was not ."

" !" echoed , believing in good truth that her
husband could not know what he was saying.

" was my former wife, ."

's face flushed crimson, and then grew white as marble; and she
drew her hand unconsciously from . 's. did not appear to
notice the movement, but stood with his elbow on the mantelpiece while
he talked, giving her a rapid summary of the interview and its
details.

" could not stay away from her children, she said, and came back as
. with the effects of the railroad accident in ,
and those spectacles she wore, and her style of dress, and her gray
hair, she felt secure in not being recognized. am astonished now
that she was not discovered. such a thing related to me should
give no credence to it."

's heart felt faint with its utter sickness, and she turned her
face from the view of her husband. first confused thoughts were as
. 's had been--that she had been living in his house with
another wife. " you suspect her?" she breathed, in a low tone.

"! suspected it, should have allowed it to go on?
implored my forgiveness for the past, and for having returned here,
and gave it to her fully. then went to , to telegraph to
, and when came back she was dead."

was a pause. . began to perceive that his wife's face
was hidden from him.

" said her heart was broken. , we cannot wonder at it."

was no reply. . took his arm from the mantelpiece, and
moved so that he could see her countenance: a wan countenance, telling
of pain.

laid his hand upon her shoulder, and made her look at him. "
dearest, what is this?"

", !" she uttered, clasping her hands together, all her
pent up feelings bursting forth, and the tears streaming from her
eyes, "has this taken your love from me?"

took both her hands in one of his, he put the other round her waist
and held her there, before him, never speaking, only looking gravely
into her face. could look at its sincere truthfulness, at the
sweet expression of his lips, and doubt him? . allowed
the moment's excitement to act upon her feelings, and carry her away.

" had thought my wife possessed entire trust in me."

", do, do; you know do. me, ," she slowly
whispered.

" deemed it better to impart this to you, . there been
wrong feeling on my part, should have left you in ignorance.
darling, have told you it in love."

was leaning on his breast, sobbing gently, her repentant face
turned towards him. held her there in his strong protection, his
enduring tenderness.

" wife! darling! now and always."

" was a foolish feeling to cross my heart, . is done
with and gone."

" let it come back, . need her name be mentioned
again between us. barred name it has hitherto been; so let it
continue."

" you will. earnest wish is to please you; to be worthy of
your esteem and love, ," she timidly added, her eye-lids
drooping, and her fair cheeks blushing, as she made the confession.
" has been a feeling in my heart against your children, a sort of
jealous feeling, you can understand, because they were hers; because
she had once been your wife. knew how wrong it was, and have tried
earnestly to subdue it. have, indeed, and think it is nearly
gone," her voice sunk. " constantly pray to be helped to do it; to
love them and care for them as if they were my own. will come with
time."

" good thing will come with time that we may earnestly seek,"
said . . ", , never forget--never forget that the
only way to ensure peace in the end is to strive always to be doing
right, unselfishly under ."