Wylder's Hand

he Drawing-Room and

ld have talked to ugly Mrs. W. Wylder, his sister-in-law, at his left, but she was entertaining Lord Chelford now. He had nothing for it but to perform cavalier seul with his slice of mutton — a sensual sort of isolation, while all the world was chatting so

fancy, I suppose, to revive certain sentimental relations which had, it may be, once existed between him and Miss Lak

coffee, and after a few words to his fiancée he lounged t

xclaimed, not raising her eyes

ake,’ said that good little

h’s pretty outlines. Sit down besid

had intended renewing his talk with Miss Lake, saw that she had foiled him, and stood with a heightened co

throw from foreign travel, and devious reading, and was as usual intelligent and agreeable; and Mark was still more sore and angry, and strutted away t

eriously have modified existing arrangements. But he had a passionate sort of obstinacy, and his whims took a violent character when

, and in fact was listening to that other conversation which sounded, with its pleasant gabble and laughter, like a little mu

g stiffly through her spectacles on a French novel, and through a second drawing-room, and into the hall, where he saw Larcom’s expansive white waistcoat, and disregarded hi

hes, and spluttered a curse or two, according to old Nollekins’ receipt for easing the m

rly, after his wont, and asked him whom he was going to drive, as if he did not know, cunning fellow; and actually went so far as t

peace, and there was perhaps some vague vision of jumping in afterwards; I know not. Mark’s ideas of ladies and of

into their vehicles. And in fact not only did Lord Chelford assist the fair lady, cloaked and hooded, into the carriage, but the vicar’s goodhumoured little wife was handed in also, the good vicar looking on, and as the gay good-night and leave-taking took place by the door-steps, Mark drew back, like a guilty thing, in silence, and showed no sign but the red top