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Updated: June 16, 2025
My fair fashionable heroines looked at me in my dreams with eyes blood-shot and revengeful, saying, 'This is what you have brought me to. For I suppose, Elersley, that girl never did a day's good since. Her fate has been constantly preying on my mind. I have spent a life of wretched expiation already in this world, God only knows what awaits me in the next.
Of course, if we met Guy Elersley to-morrow morning, the fetters of society would force us to feign an utter ignorance of such a mode of living among our gentlemen friends. We must take it for granted that from sunset till sunrise, Guy was not "sleeping the sleep of the Bacchanal," and we need not fear that he will betray himself.
We know that many are addressed through Guy Elersley, and this indirect way is adopted of telling them how far below the mark of feminine appreciation they fall in attempting to throw dust in our eyes. As if every circumstance of the times was not calculated to impress more firmly upon us how unworthy the world is becoming of us.
Guy agreed sadly here "I think he was a little ungrateful besides, in return for your kindness, for I had always understood from him, that in his eyes, you were worth only the wealth you would leave him at your death. I don't want to run down the absent ones, but all the same, I must say, that Elersley had his faults." Guy ground his teeth in smothered hatred.
Love has its limits, but hatred its only sweetness is its infinity, its boundless freedom, and its endless resources. There was something of both these stimulants pressing Guy Elersley onward to determined action. All the mighty strength of years of subdued love and sincerest devotion spurred him hopefully on, and all the crushing power of a few days' hatred goaded him on to merciless action.
They had scarcely gone a block away, before Guy Elersley opened the gate leading up to his uncle's house, and admitted himself. He went into the sitting-room, but it was empty, that is, his uncle was not there, or any other living intruder; but there arose between him and the gloomy coals, the same sweet face and graceful figure that had kept a ceaseless vigil over his slumber last night.
It was past eleven now, and he had still other duties to attend to before keeping his word with Mrs. Belford. "Are you going," the invalid asked impatiently, making an effort to rise in his narrow bed. "Look here Elersley," he cried, "I want to thank you, to praise you, if I could, but my poor voice is shattered and weak.
He had spent an evening with all the old faces after an absence of years, and not one of his many friends and acquaintances suspected Guy Elersley any nearer than the possible distance of the unknown. "Was I deceived or did a sable cloud Turn forth her silver lining on the night?" Milton "Three months! three months!"
Guy Elersley was the man she loved, the only being in the whole wide world that influenced her life, but if it were her fate to be the victim of deception then with the mightiest strength of a womans will will she would cast his image out of her heart forever. She would live for the man she loathed, a life of voluntary martyrdom. The struggle would benefit her in any case.
"Which may infer that I am not on intimate terms with my common sense," he thought, and aloud: "I will retract the word if you please, and consider you and Mr. Elersley as strangers." Strangers! that was true, deep down in her heart, but with her lips she said: "By no means, Guy Elersley and I have ceased to be strangers from the first moment we met. But this can not interest you.
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