Lady Evelyn — page 144: what you’re looking at

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

“A Marriage of Convenience.” —-137 she smiled, a brief, chill, disdainful smile—her father’s own. “Do you?” she answered, with a slight foreign shrug. “Very likely. Mr. T revannance has loved many women, or rumor strangely belies him.” “I never loved any woman well enough before to ask | her to be my wife.” She bowed, that cold slight smile still on her face. The clear, violet eyes knew him as he knew himself. “You have paid me a high compliment, then. Believe me, | am very grateful. And now, as I may not see you again, once more, adieu, and a pleasant voyage to—Cen- tral Africa, is it not?” She floated away with the most profound and graceful of courtesies; and if Sir Malise on Tower Hill, with his head on the block, and the mighty ax swinging in midair, felt anything like his last descendant, standing alone on the terrace, the feelings of that martyr to the Stuart's cause were by no means to be envied. He broke into a laugh—a laugh that was loud, but not at all pleasant to hear. “I pitied poor Ametuyst last night. By Jove! Il go and hunt the unlucky beggar up, and we'll condole with one another—wrecked in the same boat. Misery loves company.’ And then, whistling shrilly, and slashing the trees with his riding-whip, the lord of Royal Rest rode home and wrote out a second telegram to his crony, Sir Foulke Mounteagle, in Vienna: “DEAR Mount,—Meet me in Tania on the r5th. High time to go up the Nile. TTREVANNANCE,” CHAAR CIGR ix: é A MARRIAGE OF CONVENIENCE,.”’ There was a little room adjoining the library at War- beck Hall, scred to that profound statesman, the Earl of Clontarf. Here he read and wrote his letters, undis- turbed by the gay life around him; here he spent the chief — ‘ part of each day until dinner. aE wo or “comicbooks : a rZ ‘ 2 4 Sc “~ * “ a ‘ } a. ; t mS 45 *" - e. U ik , “et > Aaa es t) oo "t. ; a we ae Ce a ‘ \ ed <4 ine ter