Angelina: Or, The Mystery of St. Mark's Abbey — page 32: what you’re looking at

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

TILE MYSTERY OF ST. MARK’S ABBEY. 19 living model of virtue and integrity, and see another laxariate in that rank and wealth which you sow enjoy ? Bahk !” << Enjoy !” cried the baron, in a tone of bitterness—* alas ! can there be any enjoyment in the fruits of crime—mur-———hark !—agaia ! J could have sworn I beard a sigh!” “Are you going mad?” said Rufus; “ however, } came not hore to listen te a sermon, 80, my lord, Vil e’en leave you till you are in a more fitting mood to talk apon the business in which you require my aid. "Tis only fools who talk of conscience! °’Psha !—the cant of priestcraft; the coward’s bug- gaboo. What is the uee of repenting of what has been done years ago, and which nothing can alter now ?”’ ‘¢ Well, well, be it so, perhaps EF am weak—foolish, good Rufus,” replied the baron in a firmer tone, “ but enough, to business at once. Rufus, dost thou remember that dreadfal night when near this spot, thou didst—by my orders—”’ Here a hollow gust of wind that swept through the chapel, completely drowned the voice of de Morton, and Angelina in vain tried to catch the conclading sentence, “ Methought your lordsbip’s conscience was ready enough to remind you of the events of that night, and two or three other little circumstances,” sarcasti- cally replied Rufas, “‘ but to prove to you that my memory is not in any way im paired, if it please you, I will recapitulate” “ Nay, nay, hold Rufas,”’ hastily interposed de Morton, ‘‘ I meant not that ; bat I would ask you, are you certain that your arm was sure, and that ” _ Sare,” inaterrapted Rufus in a savage voice, *‘ what now ? Did not the disappearance of—— ? did not my reeking dagger offer sufficient proofs how truly I had kept my word—how certain had been my aim? Have you grown suspicious, my lord de Morton? If so, the sooner we part the better !* ‘© You mistake me, Rufus,”’ said the baron in an agitated tone, “I—”’ Here the whistling of the wind again rendered the words of the baron in- audible, and it was several minutes ere Angelina could make out a syllable they were uttering ; she noticed the violence of the baron’s gestures, who every now and then, looked fearfully around the chapel, as though he was appre- hensive that some one was watching them. “ Both, I tell you,’’ at length Angelina beard Rufus say, ‘‘ why should you doubt ?” ‘* *Tis strange,” returned the baron, ‘* and yet the astonishing likenéss that rustic beauty bears to—I was thunderstrack the moment I beheld ber, and I felt a deadly chill run though my veins. Her uncle, too, I like him not;— there is a mystery about him that convinces me he is not what he wishes to appear to be !” The conversation was now carried on in so low a tone, that not a word could be overheard. Angelina trembled with excessive terror, like an aspen leaf. The allusion to herself and her uncle, filled her bosom with the most acute anguish; and the warning of the woman of the ruins, struck more forcibly on aer recollection. In the agitation of her feelings, she disturbed some of the crumbling rubbish which lay around her, and it fell down with a rustling noise, that made both Rufus and the baron start ! ** Did you not hear that?" cried the latter. CORNICE DO© CO