Penny Blood Serial Fiction — page 202: what you’re looking at

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

A NIGHT AT THE VILLA 185 seclusion of his own chamber; and thus the young ladies were left much to themselves and thrown upon their own re- sources for recreation. In a word, they were what may be termed ‘ their own mistresses;”’ and even in their walks Mr. Clarendon seldom accompanied them. He entertained the fullest confidence in their propriety of conduct, and their very artlessness and inexperience were in his estimation the best proofs that his reliance upon their prudence had not been misplaced. Having recorded these few observations, we resume the thread of our narrative. Pauline had taken the candle with her, and Florimel. was accordingly left in the dark in the maiden’s bedchamber. She descended the stairs with precipitate haste, and opened the front door. In another.moment she was clasped in the arms of her father, who exclaimed, ‘‘ I have welcome news for you, dearest Pauline. But you did not expect me home so soon, perhaps, nor yet at such an unseasonable hour? ”’ | “Oh, I am rejoiced that you have returned in safety, dear father,’’ responded the affectionate daughter, for an instant forgetting in the delight of this meeting the embarrassing circumstances in which she was placed with regard to Flori- mel on the one hand and her sister on the other. The postilion now brought Mr. Clarendon’s trunk into the house; and that gentleman, having paid for the hire of the vehicle in which he had travelled, entered the front parlour with his daughter. “You will take some refreshment, dear father? ’’ she exclaimed, observing that he looked fatigued, although his countenance was happier in expression than she had ever before known it to be. “Nothing, Pauline, thank you. I am only wearied in consequence of a tedious journey,” he continued; ‘‘ for the roads are execrable with the thaw that has set in, and hence the lateness of the hour at which I have arrived. But how is my dear Octavia? ”’ “She is well, quite well, dear father,’’ answered the young maiden, feeling that her countenance became scarlet. and then suddenly pale as she spoke; for it appeared to her as if she were already uttering a falsehood, or at all events de- ceiving her sire with an equivocation. GOmiicsdoo €5) (C©)