His Grace — page 248: what you’re looking at

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

242 HIS GRACE. Nervous though I was and anxious to be well out of it, I could not help wondering, with some pleasurable emotion of curiosity, what sort of a queer encounter I was about to witness. Presently the door was thrown open, and the other party to the combat entered the lists. Her forbidding countenance wore a somewhat more than usually hard expression ; yet I divined that she was a little ashamed of herself and a little sorry for the man upon whose head she had brought down the consequences of a for- gotten disgrace. She did not offer him her hand, nor did he make any advance towards according her that customary form of greeting; but I was permitted to press her long, skinny fingers, while she surveyed me interrogatively, as who should say, ‘‘ Pray who asked you to put your oar in?” “You have only yourself to thank,” she began, ad- dressing Hurstbourne, without preface or any simulated doubt as to the nature of his errand; “a moment’s re- flection will show you that it was not much more agree- able tome to hand that letter over to Mr. Gascoigne than it can have been to you to read it. But you left me no choice; you refused to listen to repeated warn- ings—you would have it! After all, nowthat you know the truth, you will hardly assert that you were entitled to expect much consideration from me.” “You think perhaps,” said Hurstbourne, “‘ that I came here to reproach you. Not at all; I only came in order to make my position and yours clear: as matters stand now, it seems to want a little clearing up. What you imagine to be your position is this, isn’t it?—that you possess, or rather that your confederate, Paul Gascoigne, possesses, an incriminating ietter which you are de- Eomichooks (@) (E(o)