The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 134: what you’re looking at

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

= ] » i THE REVIEW 117 whelmed with confusion and affright. A crowd was gather- ing around the spot, and numerous voices ejaculated an approval of what our hero had done, for he was not the only one who had been observing Stanhope’s insolent behaviour. As for this individual himself, he sprang to his feet and was about to give vent to bitter imprecations against the gallant one who had stricken him down, but recognizing our young hero, he became speechless, was cowed and dismayed, for he had heard from Marchmont the dénouement of the plot at Oaklands, and how it had been so completely frustrated and exposed through Christian’s instrumentality. A police- man quickly made his way through the crowd, and while Christian led Miss Vincent off, the bystanders acquainted the constable with Mr. Stanhope’s insolent conduct, and how deservedly it had been chastised. It was evident, too, that Stanhope had been drinking, and the police officer summarily ejected him from the park, threatening to take him into custody if he dared offer the slightest resistance. Meanwhile Christian, as already said, had hurried Isabella away, and the beautiful girl of sixteen clung to his arm as to that of a protector, or as a sister might to that of a brother. She was still so much under the influence of her agitated feelings as to be for the first few moments totally unable to give utterance to a word, or to express her eratitude to Christian otherwise than by a look; and in this there was a certain tenderness which, though quite consistent with virginal modesty and maiden bashfulness, nevertheless seemed to confirm the youth’s hope that he was not altogether indifferent to her. Nor did he immediately speak again when thus leading her away from the crowd that had gath- ered on the spot where he so chivalrously vindicated her insulted innocence. ‘There was a paradise of feeling in the youth’s soul, —a pure and holy ecstasy of the heart which those who have loved well and fondly cannot fail to comprehend, and which was too deep for utterance. At length he said, in that low voice which invariably belongs to emotions so profound, so ineffably blissful, ‘‘ Were you separated from your friends, Miss Vincent? Were you look- ing for any one?” “Yes, Mr. Ashton,’’ she answered. ‘“ But permit me _ to express all the gratitude — Ah, here he is!’ she abruptly ejaculated. GomilGnooks (SO)