Penny Dreadfuls, 1889 · page 49 of 216
The American Marquis by Nick Carter — page 49: what you’re looking at
A restored page from Penny Dreadfuls, 1889. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Ties ee, Aly ARB Ae 08 2) fete, Dehee Bi eh eed Se elle LA ae ae BALE LL. Owe Fe eee aa , beet se eee 5 ah | rie ( iy Th a4 Pad id Ores abel BRA Wt at Gil WR (A/a eee as ey Un ee PEA Sere OC AP Oe Tee NL re Te CME * a 4 t ‘ i, AY 6 ya a ie vo , ay 4 ve \7 van Vu 4 es ‘A . is “THE AMERICAN MARQUIS. —_- 45 ‘‘Why is it that I loved her so when love was hopeless— _ mad, unless fate urged me on. ‘‘Why should I meet her now a free woman to hear my love if fate had not so willed it? ! ‘Why, after my terrible sufferings and the hardening of my soul, should I meet her now, a sweet angel to pour balm upon my heart wounds if fate had not wiled it? ‘‘In love with another? It may be, but Ido not believe it, for in those deep blue eyes when I looked in them came up the reflection of a free maidenly heart. on ‘Oh, I will win her, I will winher. I must. I will let her see into my heart and read its earnestness and pas- sion. ‘‘Tt cannot be that fate has led us together only to mock at me. | ‘‘She shall be mine, and I will make her so happy— happy as only such an angel of purity as she deserves to be.” And as the short hours sped away they carried with them the sweetest moments of Clinton Hastings’ life. Deeper and deeper he drank from the fountain of love, and his whole being was in a strange ecstasy of bliss. ‘How marvelous was it that a strong, iron-willed man | could thus be carried away by a sentiment born in a mo- ment of a chance glimpse of a sweet face, and strenghtened into an overpowering vitality by one short evening of com- panionship! ; | When Clinton Hastings, or Marquis d’Iberri—for he was lawfully both—reached his room that night, he gave himself over to the sweet joy of hope. Gone was every hard thought from his heart; fled was the spirit of vengeance; forgotten the fearful oath of the square chamber. Bet: ‘‘ Bah!” he exclaimed in disgust. ‘‘I was going to make a hangman of myself, and gloat over the sufferings of a woman who had played with my heart, and then tossed me to death like a piece of carrion. What care I for her or what she did, now that I may win my first and true love! That was a wild infatuation for the masked creature, though, and she was superb. Good Heaven! when I think of her perfidy, I No, no, Clinton, don’t think of it. You were to blame, too. You led her on to play with you — Eomichooks.ico