His Grace — page 60: what you’re looking at

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

54 HIS GRACE. He shrugged his shoulders and turned away, leav- ing me with a firm conviction that he had meant me to report those last words of his to Hurstbourne and with an equally firm determination that I would do no such thing. He would have alarmed me more if his malev- olence had not been so obvious; still, even as it was, he did contrive to make me feel uneasy. The deer- forest and the yacht and the home entertainments were all very well; but when a man takes to owning race- horses and backing them, who can fix any limit to his possibilities ? My somewhat gloomy meditations were presently in- terrupted by the subject of them, who came running across the room to ask me what in the world I meant by not dancing. “You ought to be ashamed of your- self, you lazy beggar! Come along and be introduced to the youth and beauty of the neighborhood.” But I was not destined to become acquainted with the youth and beauty of the neighborhood that even- ing; for he had not towed me a dozen paces before we were intercepted by a servant, who handed me a telegram which, he said, had just been brought from the station. I knew instinctively that it had come from Nora; I knew what its contents must be, and when I tore it open my worst fears were verified. I showed it to Hurstbourne, who glanced at the urgent summons which it conveyed—“ Come home at once. Mother is very wl,’—and who, like the good, kind fel- low that he is, wasted no time in uttering common- place condolences, but took prompt measures for having me sent off to Lavenham Road to catch the night mail. “They'll stop it by signal for you,” said he; “one Eomichoo “S com