The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 180: what you’re looking at

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

j FRESH ADVENTURES * he mingled indignation and wounded pride, ‘‘ am the mistress of the villa. If your lordship is disappointed, and expected to meet some other person, your lordship can retire. It was not I who sought this interview, and therefore the humilia- tion of the mistake will not rest with me.” “Do not be angry, I beseech you,’’ cried Saxondale, scarcely recovering from his bewilderment. ‘‘ It is true that I had been led to imagine another lady lived here, but the _ one in whose presence I have the honour to find myself is so charming a substitute that it is, as it were, only finding myself in one part of Paradise when I had fancied that I was being led to another.”’ “Your lordship, at all events, has the art of turning a compliment most prettily,’’ said the young lady, smiling so as to reveal a set of very beautiful teeth. ‘‘ But pray whom did you expect to meet here on the present occa- sion?” “To tell you the truth, it was the Signora Vivaldi,” answered Saxondale. “Oh, the prude!’’ instantaneously cried the fair one, with an indignant toss of the head. ‘‘ But I begin to under- stand how this mistake originated. It is doubtless because I also belonging to the opera — ”’ “Just so!’’ exclaimed Lord Saxondale. ‘‘ And now tell me at whose feet I have the honour of kneeling? ” he added, suiting the action to the word, and dropping down upon his knees before the lady, whose hand he took and pressed to his lips. | “ You may know me as Emily Archer, if you like,” was the response, accompanied by a sweet, seductive smile, “but at the opera and to the world I am known as Made- moiselle d’Alembert.”’ ‘Oh, then, if I have lost one beautiful danseuse, I have obtained another,” exclaimed Edmund, as he again pressed her hand to his lips. Then rising from his knees and seating himself by her side, he said, ‘‘ How foolish in me not to have recognized you at once! I have often admired you, and be- tween ourselves considered you a much finer artiste than the Signora Vivaldi.” “ Ah! my dear Lord Saxondale,’’ exclaimed Miss Archer, “it is only jealousy and bad taste and envy and want of . discernment and all kinds of nasty feelings that have put me CONNIE OOOkKS (FO)