Lady Evelyn — page 122: what you’re looking at

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

The Story of the Past. 115 the fashion. I thought Lady Evelyn Desmond had sense, but she’s no better than the rest.” ; It certainly looked like it. Lady Evelyn, who never allowed herself to be monopolized by any gentleman, al- lowed herself to be monopolized by Trevannance -to- night. The rich, blue eyes wore an unwonted brilliance. the ‘exquisite lips were half apart.as she listened. He might have been declaring a deathless passion in sound- ing hexameters as far as looks went. In reality, he was only telling her of a last year’s visit to Wicklow, a pil- erimage to Clontarf. He described the wild mountain and coast scenery, the picturesque ruins of Clontarf Cas- tle, promised her a faithful sketch of it soon, and she listened with a deep, intense interest, unconscious of the speeding hours and the significant glances of the lookers- on. It was very like a flirtation—from a distance. Tre- vannance saw the faces of the Duke of Amethyst, Lord Rivers & Co., and smiled covertly in wicked delight. “Triompho morte tam vita! It is the motto of our house. To carry off the highest-priced Circassian in Mayfair, the belle of London society, the beauty of the day. By Jove! if a fellow can’t distinguish himself by his deeds of ‘derring-do,’ let him distinguish himself in the Court of Cupid. My lovely Castilian Rose, I'll win you and wear you if I can!” There was a self-satisfied smile on his face as he saun- tered into the smoking-room half an hour before mid- night, and saw poor Amethyst glowering upon him through a cloud of Cavendish. It was something, this triumph over a duke, even though that duke had no more brains than a donkey. CHAPTER VI. THE STORY OF THE PAST. — The fire had flickered and faded out on the marble hearth, the wax-lights had burned low; but Inez, Coun- tess of Clontarf, lay motionless on her sofa, clasping the picture of her beloved to her heart. - She had fallen asleep, with the soft dropping of the embers, the beating of the rain, and the waihne of the P ee ey “ee j ; ' ‘ TARY » era NG : Rooke Bal Mie ny y } Ae eet | te i OP Way ; ! i De Te ie es. wy \ e ' tip: : ; nF vy ves : a « ole ; + Ting \ ig Tee Ped ty ii , hw ; ’ 7 : te iy Sens a ee 4 ? f J mm