The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 358: what you’re looking at

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

336 REYNOLDS’ WORKS should arouse the household and send off for medical assist- ance. “Not for worlds,” ejaculated the duke, with strange vehemence; then he immediately added, “‘ You would not have me render myself ridiculous in the presence of all the servants? It is enough that I have thus found my way to your chamber. But you will not breathe a syllable of all this? You will keep it inviolably secret? Tell me, Purvis, tell me — ” “Yes, my lord; rest assured that I will do what you command. But about the dream?’ added Purvis, hesi- tatingly, and his curiosity was poignantly excited. “Ah! about the dream?” repeated the duke; ‘“ you wish to know the rest?” and in a sort of half-bewildered manner he sank down upon the chair again. ‘I tell you, Purvis, that the form bent over me, — I mean, you under- stand that it appeared to do so, — and it said some words, and it breathed a name, and that name was its own, for thus did it announce itself ——- And the name —”’ ‘‘ And the name, my lord?” repeated the steward, in the low, half-hushed tone of an awe-felt suspense, as if he ex- pected to hear that it was the name of one from the grave which had thus been spoken. | ‘The name?” said the duke, gazing in a species of vacant horror and dismay upon the old man; “ that name was — Bertram Vivian.” The steward started in such a way that the whole bed shook under him, and Marchmont likewise started as if that sound itself had galvanized him with a new terror. ‘Yes, it was my brother’s name,” he continued, in a low, hollow voice, ‘‘ and therefore it must have been a dream. For if it were not, then was it a _ from the other world—”’ “Yes, my lord,” rejoined the steward, in solemn tones, “ for if your brother were alive, he would not revisit the seat of his crime.” Marchmont looked in an appalled vacant horror around, and for upwards of a minute there was a profound silence in that room. “And what followed, my lord?” at length asked the steward, who was evidently under the influence of an awe- inspiring, superstitious terror. CORMMIEMOOOK