Lady Evelyn — page 92: what you’re looking at

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

a an | - Pay b : ' “ ° ay - a 4 a Cant AES ot rae guns aatied: out of the stillness, ane grea band ae RS: : E Peony was the slaughter thereof. } Regn 8 The afternoon sun was drooping low in the west ere Trevannance came loitering out of the plantation and up) the velvet slope of Jawn that led to the grand portico en- trance of the house. He paused beside a marble foun- tain where naiads disported in the plashing waters, as the sight of a fly from the railway, rattling rapidly up the noble oak avenue, met. his eye. “Who can it be?” he thought. The instant after he had started forward in surprise. ‘The governor, by Jove!’ he exclaimec—“‘a day sooner than he said.” He came forward with the careless grace peculiar to him, and greeted his father with outstretched hand and a cordial smile of welcome. ~My dear general! happy to welcome you to Royal Rest. Why did you not say in your letter you were com- ing to-day, instead of to-morrow, and some of my people _should have met you at the station ?”’ “Ah! thanks. No matter. Didn’t know it myself, -you see. ‘Took the notion suddenly. How uncommonly well you're looking, to be sure! Country air and quiet agree with you, eh?” : “T believe it is considered Heneniial, I can return the compliment, however, sir. London air and bustle seen to agree equally well with you. I never saw you looking better in my life. May I offer you a cigar?” General Trevannance accepted the offer, and, linking his arm in that of his son, led him toward the house. They resembled each other, father and son, and the bright, dark eyes of the elder man were as brilliant as in the days of his youth—albeit the thick brown hair was iron-gray now.and the heavy mustache snowy white. He bore the stamp of the cavalry officer from head to 4oot—upright as a dart, hale as a lad of twenty, and with twice the energy in voice and face and manner as his son. “Who have you down here, Vivian?” he asked. “Royal Rest is full from bottom to top, as usual, I dare say?” “My dear sir, no. Only three men—Langley, of the Household Brigade, Guy Rivers, and Lord Racer. You see, I haven’t quite determined to spend the autumn in — Pasta. qwhien qT parted | with Mounicagle three weeks _ « => rr -— tty yok oe " ol c™ é Sette ~~ + he 4 r 4 i 5 nN ‘ ¢ Cy,