The Soldier's Wife — page 72: what you’re looking at

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

THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. | B4 ooach drove up to the door of the booking-office,!whether you will do so when I have finished which happened to be next to the Royaljspeaking. I shall not fall to your feet, Luey, George. Davis and his daughter alighted, andjand implore you to make your father happy: at once entered the hotel. Here the bailiff |I shall not trust to prayers and entreaties, nor desired the waiter to conduct them immediate-|leave myself entirely at your mercy, because it ly to a private room—a command that was/is but too plain that you have made up your promptly obeyed. But ere the domestic re-|mind to be disobedient. But I will tell yoa tired, Davs exchanged with him a few words, |this, that 1f you in your wilfulness and your uttered rapidly aside and in a very low whis-|obstinacy destroy the proud dream in which I per. The fact is, he inquired whether a gentle-|have cradled myself, if with a remorseless hand man named Redb.irn was in the hotel? and on|you dash down the fabric of those hopes which recelving an answer in the affirmative, he|! have labored to build up, the consequencer desired the waiter to go with his (Mr. Davis’s)| will be terrible indeed? I have made my will, compliments, and that he would join Mr. Red-|leaving all I possess to a public charity. And burn in ten minutes. f why have I taken this precaution?! Thatif you All her suspicions, all her misgivings, came|continue to dare me until the end—if you drive back at once, vividly and with renewed power, |me to the catastrophe which will remain as my to the mind of the unhappy Lucy. This whis-jonly alternative—I shall at least die knowin pering appeared darkly ominous, and her heart |that I have thrown as a beggar upon the worl sank within her. She threw a frightened and|the disobedient girl—the heartless daughter, inquiring look upon her father: the glance that|who drove her father to suicide!” met her own, seemed the strongest confirma-| “Good heavens! speak not thus—oh, speak tion of the truth of her apprehensions, for on|jnot thus, | implore you! You will drive me the bailiffs countenance there was now an ex-|mad!” and now poor Lucy, the whole state of pression of a grave and serious meaning, min-|her feelings changing in a moment, clasped her gled with the stern resolve of a determined|hands and extended them muploringly towards man. her sire. “Lucy,” he said, “ the moment is now arrived} “Do not think that Iam uttering any idle for explanations—” threat,” responded Davis, still cold, stern, and “Ah!” she ejaculated, but in a low andjimplacable. “If you refuse to receive Gerald stifling voice; and then sinking upon a seat, she} Redburn as your husband, I will drive you gazed on her sire with mingled wildness and}forth with my bitterest, bitterest curse ?” vacancy. “OQ God!” murmured Luey, with a stifled “Daughter,” he resumed, addressing her in a|shriek at the same time passing between her firm and inplacable voice, “it is your parent/|lips. who is about to make known to you his inten-| “ Yes—my bitterest curse, laid upon your tions, avd I warn you to beware how youjhead with all the crushing, withering power prove a disobedient child. Listen—prepare|that the awful feelings of my soul can impart yourself fo hear something that may startle}to 1t!—a curse, Lucy, that shall cling to you you, but take care how you shriek out, for [}/throughout the remainder of your wretched am resolved not to endure any love-sick girlish |lifte—a curse that shall haunt you like a spectre, airs, much less to be moved by them. Within|attend upon you by day, appear in your dreams the hour that is passing, you will bestow your|by night,—a curse too that shall embody hand upon Mr. Gerald Redburn!” itself in the Eris y shape of that parent whom “No, father—never!” responded Lucy, sud-|you will have driven to die in the blood of a denly acquiring a degree of firmness which!/distracted suicide. Behold—this weapon ia astonished even herself as she experienced it:}loaded !” and slowly rising from the chair which she had| ‘Merciful God; what will become of me?” taken, she stood before her father pale and|exclaimed the wretched Lucy, sinking upon her colorless as a marble statue, but with a strange|knees and clasping her hands in bitterest an- gleaming in the eyes and a strong compression|guish as her father produced a pistol from his of the lips. pocket. “Lucy,” said Mr. Davis, staggered for an| “You now know all,” he continued, slowly instant, but only for an instant, “ will you dare|returning the weapon (which, we need hardly your father’s curse? Remember what I saidjsay, was not loaded) to the pocket whence he to you some weeks ago! My mind is set upon|had taken it; and neither by word nor motion the accomplishment of this grand and brilliant|did he bid his daughter rise from the suppliant alliance, which I have labored to bring about|posture to which she had sunk. “Gerald Red- fer you. Do not interrupt me, but listen. Mr.|burn is here within these walls. All the requi- Redburn has offered you his hand. Here is a|site arrangements are made; he has the mar- letter which he sent me two or three days back, |riage-license—and the clergyman is no doubt with the idea that I should deliver it to you at|in attendance. Will you, or will you uot, ence. . You can read it.” become his wife? Will you force your coun- Lucy shook her head—not in an excited|tenance to assume at least a look of resignation? manner, but firmly and resolutely; and there| will you suffer it to appear that it is with you was something strange and eve1. terrible in the|consent as well as with mine, that this mar fortitude with which she was armed at this|/riage takes place? Or will ro fail in all or mom =nt. any one of these details, and ruin everything} “No?” ejaculated Davis: “then you still|jIfso, deal candidly with me at once. I shail dare me, you still defy me? We shall see|jthen know whether I have or have rot a Eom FDOOKSHEO