The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 97: what you’re looking at

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

SO REYNOLDS’ WORKS Juliana, tossing her head indignantly. ‘ Your ladyship just now spoke in the harshest terms to me and Constance for a very trivial thing, and yet you put up with the astound- ing insolence of a wretched dependent.’’ “Dependent indeed!” yelled forth Mabel, her spiteful eyes darting reptile-looks of malignity upon the Honourable Miss Farefield. ‘‘ How dere you speak of me in this way? I tell you that you are a vain and haughty minx, as your brother is a contemptible coxcomb.”’ ‘Mabel, I insist upon your holding your tongue,” said Lady Saxondale, but rather in a voice of entreaty than command. ‘ Juliana, Constance, retire. I must have some private conversation.” “Private conversation indeed!” echoed Mabel, with increasing rage. ‘* What I want is justice, and I mean to have it, too. ‘To be bulhed and badgered by that petty tyrant is beyond all endurance. I hate him, the whole household hates him, everybody hates him; he is a wretched eur!” ‘“Mother,”’ cried Juliana, “if you do not call the lackeys to turn this woman out of the house — ‘Silence, miss! ’’ ejaculated Lady Saxondale, stamping her foot a rage. “ Retire, I say.’ Constance, the younger oirl, was already retreating to the door, both frightened and amazed at this scene with the old housekeeper, a scene which, though not altogether new, was still far more serious than any displays of the kind that had ever previously taken place. Juliana, the elder young lady, flung a look of unmitigated contempt upon Mabel, and walked, with all her mother’s stateliness and haughty gran- deur, out of the room, closing the door with some degree of violence behind her. What then took place between Lady Saxondale and her ~ irate housekeeper, we know not. Suffice it to say that they remained alone together for nearly half an hour, and when the old woman emerged from that room again, 1t was with the mingled sullenness and vixenish acerbity of countenance which plainly indicated that though she had suffered herselt to be appeased somehow or another, yet that it was with a very bad grace she had received such satisfaction or apolo- cies as might have been offered, and that in her heart the sense of insult was still rankling bitterly. CONNIE OO KS m