The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 40: what you’re looking at

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

THE POND 23 “ And what would you with me?” inquired Lettice, all her fears now suddenly flowing into another channel, and suggesting the horrible thought that she was in the hands of a robber and assassin. “T tell you that you have nothing to fear in the form of violence,’ answered the individual, who, we may as well ob- serve, was none other than Clement Redcliffe, ‘‘ but it is necessary that we should have some little conversation together.”’ “Conversation? ’’ said Lettice, wildly echoing the word, but so bewildered and lost in terror was she as to be at the moment unconscious of what she was saying. ‘* Conversa- tion — here? ”’ “Yes, here,’ replied Redcliffe, “‘ for this is a spot where the guilty conscience becomes too deeply appalled not .to make such atonement as may be in its power. Compose yourself. [I need not apologize for constraining you to linger yet a little while in the bleak night air, — you who hesitate not to face it in order to pursue your path of mis- chief.” ‘What mean: you?’’ asked Lettice, almost in a dying tone, for she at once comprehended that allusion was thus made to the nefarious transactions in which she had been engaged. Her terror was, however, so far abated, that she no longer apprehended violence on the part of him who was thus ad- dressing her, and she endeavoured, through the darkness, to obtain some idea of his features. Indeed, the suspicion had stolen into her mind that his voice was not altogether un- familiar to her — at least in its accents, though its deep solemn tone was different enough from the hilarious one he had forced himself to assume on the occasion of his visit to Madame Angelique’s abode. But the collar of his cloak was drawn so high up over his countenance, and his hat was pulled so much forward, that Lettice was totally unable to discern his features. She saw that he was tall, and upright as a dart as he then held himself, but these circumstances afforded no clue to the establishment of an identity. “ You ask what I mean, and in a few words I will explain myself,’ said Mr. Redcliffe, still purposely disguising his voice as much as possible, so as to pass undiscovered through the interview. ‘‘ It has come to my knowledge — it matters CONNIE DOOKS (FO)