The Mysteries of London; or, Revelations of the British Metropolis — page 329: what you’re looking at

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

OF LONDON. 327 said the old man, proudly raising his tearful face; the father of your honour would have had that man chastised by his footman. Trevor! what isa Trevor, then? A north-country baron ;— Percival’s head fell back upon his pillow. Deliver your message then, whatever it may be, said Stephen; this suspense is killing him. My messake cried old Jack, whose anger made him taller by aninch. By the arms of the Perci- vals! that man tore his honour’s letter without reading it. Frank closed his eyes, uttering a feeble cry. Stepheu couid not return to his mother’s house _until the next day, for during the whole of that night, Frank was in a high state of fever, and completely delirious! he stood in need of ail the young doctor's care. This night was passed by Stephen in painful meditations and discouraging apprehensions. Frank’s state of health was far from affording any consolatory symptoms. His fever was most intense; and Stephen feared that all these painfui emotions, so rapidly succeeding each other, might, together with his wound, ren- der useless all the assistance which art could be- stow. But there was still some chances for bis re- covery, and this was not the most heart-rending of Stephen’s thoughts. , Stephen had devoted all his energies to the consideration of his friend’s case, and had, with earnest attention, followed the several phases of his fever. Then, his thoughts had involuntarily turned from the objects before him to distant ones, The recollection of Clara Macfarlane had taken full possession of his heart, from whom Frank’s comichooks;com