Penny Dreadfuls, 1899 · page 243 of 295
Lady Evelyn — page 243: what you’re looking at
A restored page from Penny Dreadfuls, 1899. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
TS ie en Pe OP Oe a ee ee a OAS asd Oe. ee ee se) fea > a 4 . +, Sea” ~ - “<=. « ‘. Tt .*) = xe >< <2 ae J $) Ma] : 1, 7 it, G; ee ree ss 0 “a4 J Sot a, ies ms ‘ — Rie aed } Ae eee sg e' “1 ae ~ t _- P ’ “ ~ ¥ nes ¥ t TY i 7 - ae - = f " . ‘ : ! _ ; “* , ye BR i * aap 2) ne SS Res =“ =" * Ee nae , ae one / - 7 out condee; in Ainerics there is one, not one half’ sO Shea! tiful, not one quarter so gocd or centle or lovable as your- self, and yet—I love her. I loved her and I leit her. She is beneath us in rank, perhaps, but as far above me in. genitis and virtue as yonder starlit sky. I left her, for you were to be my bride—you, the golden apple for whom half a hundred of the highest in the realm would have bartered their coronets. But now we are both free once more. [I will return to my little Mignonette, and you— you will bless the life of a better man.” He took both her hands in his and looked down at her for an answering smile; but the smile that flitted and faded over the beautiful face was very sad to see. “We have parted,” she said, softly, “and forever. Do you think papa, with his pride, would ever listen to him? And if I be not his wife, I shall go to my grave what I[ am to-night. For you, I wish you joy with all my heart —you and your bride. Shall we return? [am cold.” She shivered slightly, but not with the cold. He held her still an instant more. “Then here we part,” he said; “here we end what was to be, and go our different ways. Farewell, Lady Eve- lyn, and God bless you!" For the second time in his life, he stooped and touched the pearly brow with his lips. Never had he been so near loving her as now, when he gave her up. “Farewell! she seemed to sign rather than say, as she elided from him like a spirit and flitted away to the house. And Vivian Trevannance;, left alone in the moonlit ave- nue, lit his Manila—man’s best consoler—and leaned against a big tree, and smoked, and looked at the moon, and wondered why the deuce things were at such cross- purposes in this world, and whether it was sorrow or joy that most filled his inconstant heart at his freedom. CEPA Phi ck: FROM THE DEAD. The amber haze of the June evening lay bright over the fair English landscape as Robert Drummond rode back to Royal Rest. Warbeck Hall lay on his way thither, as:lius ue <ap