Ivan the Terrible; or, Dark Deeds of Night — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

“ IVAN THE CHAPTER VI, THE FATAL BLOW—THE DUEL—THE DEATH—HARRY PERCY AND COUNT VINCENTO IN DEADLY COMBAT—THE VILLAIN’S. DEATH—THE SrRANGE AND AWFUL DISCOVERY— DARBY WANTS TO “ BOX” SOMEBODY, IN ORDER “ TO KEEP HIS HAND IN,” COLONEL ASHTON galloped towards the inn at St. Paul’s churchyard at a terrific pace. Darby’s horse seemed to know the important errand he was on, and put forth all his powers. “4 The old colonel was dying to embrace his lost daughter and learn from her own lips the story of her wrongs and sufferings. . ‘“ Which is the ‘ King’s Head ?’” he breathlessly inquired of an old night constable. “That be it, sir,” was the reply, “ where thee sees a light, and shadows crossing the second-floor windows.” The old colonel Jumped off his horse with the alacrity of a youth, and knocked loudly at the inn door. It was opened by the good old landlord himself. The colonel was as white as a sheet. . One beside him could hear the rapid palpitation of his eart, He took the landlord’s arm, muttering, “Oh, if I were to find her dead !” and looking wildly, half- crazed with fear and anxiety. | At that moment the second story door was opened and a female voice was heard to exclaim, faintly, feebly, but repeatedly, “Father! oh, myfather!” —_ ‘Tt is she !” exclaimed the colonel, with a face suddenlylit up with joy. The old man, who a moment before was trembling like a leaf, sprang forward like a boy, and entered the chamber. Without noticing any one else he threw himself upon his daughter’s bed, exclaiming, with many tears, “ Oh, Lizzie, Lizzie! my dear lost, darling daughter 2 It was quite a picture to see the father’s rough, soldier-like face, with his grey beard and moustache, resting over and kissing the beautiful, pale, placid features of his long-lost child, Harry Percy, with a noble delicacy of feeling, desired all to retire from the room, in order to allow father and daughter to indulge in mutual grief and joy. The old colonel motioned young Harry Perey and the good landlord to remain, but all others retired. When sufficiently recovered Lizzie Ashton, with many tears, told the story of her wrongs. She had left her uncle’s in Gloucestershire and was travel- ling in her own father’s carriage towards London. When fifty miles from home, and while the carriage was progressing over a lonely heath, it was stopped and attacked by three robbers on foot. _ The postilion and footmen fought manly and bravely, bu they were all overpowered and shot dead on the spot. One of the robbers, whom the others called Count Vincento, and who appeared to be the leader, ordered his companions to act as postilion, and he himself jumped into the carriage, and told them to drive to London. Frightened almost out of her wits the poor girl was stupe- fied, and could not utter a word. This so-called Count Vincento confessed that he was nought else but a highwayman, and should not have acted as he had done except that he was in a great hurry to arrive in London in order to meet a certain celebrated outlaw surnamed Ivan the Terrible. Not conjent with insulting and robbing the poor defenceless girl Count Vincento simply laughed at her misfortune and miseries ; he had cut off nearly all her curls, and because she wept bitterly at this treatment he opened the carriage door and thrust her out, penniless, lonely, and far away from home, The colonel had listened thus far attentively to his ‘daughter’s words with a flushed face, and clenched teeth. At the mere mention of the name of Count Vincento, how- | TERRIBLE. 7 ever, he turned deadly pale, and sank into a chair from pure exhaustion. The landlord attempted to say a word, but the colonel would not permit any interruption to his daughter’s story. She therefore proceeded to say that she travelled on both night and day to reach London as best she could, first selling one thing and then anotherin order to obtain both shelter and bread, . She had to submit to numberless insults and privations. The gipsies hunted her for two days thinking to kidnap her among their tribe. By hiding in the woods by day, however, and travelling by night, she eluded them ; but as she neared her journey’s end her strength began to fail her. She was seized with frequent and violent weeping, her senses began to reel, she imagined that every man’s hand was upraised, and ready to strike her. Crossing Blackfriars Bridge strength and courage failed her. She had been for nights and days without lodging or food. Ina fit of fear, alarm, and desperation she knew not what she did or where she was going. All consciousness was gone, and did not return until the moment when she found herself surrounded by a large mob of people, and reclining in the arms of her brave, noble, and gallant deliverer. _ Harry Percy spoke not a word ; the story of the simple but beautiful girl filled his soul with sorrow. He wept, and willingly kissed the hand of the grateful girl as she stretched it forth to him, “Vincento ! Count Vincento !” gasped the landlord, ‘‘ Why he owes me——” “ 7 know him!” the colonel replied. “From my daughter’s description I cannot mistake the scoundrel!” and as he said so he trembled in every limb. “What kind of a carriage was it?” eagerly asked the portly, rosy-faced landlord, “The scoundrel called upon me a week ago,” interrupted the colonel, ‘‘and said that he had been asked to deliver a letter from my brother in Gloucestershire, saying that my daughter had resolved to stay there a week longer; that is now more than a month ago. His bearing was so unexcep- tional that Iasked him if he would be so good as to convey back to my brother several valuable packages and parcels containing notes and specie. He willingly consented. I gave them to him. I have since had proof that he is a swindler, and a black-hearted scoundrei |” “You must be mistaken in the person,” said the landlord “Why, he lives in this very hotel !” “What !’ roared’ the colonel, “that scoundrel in this hotel ?” “Yes, and has not yet returned home. Hark!” Footsteps were heard upon the stairs. “Tis Count Vincento himself,” said the landlord, “Ican tell by his creaking boots.” A mode of action was immediately agreed upon. The old colonel hid himself in a large cupboard that was used as a wardrobe, No one was visible within the room save the doctor, the landlord and Harry Percy. _ Count Vincento was politely accosted on the stairs by the landlord with many bows, and was invited into the apartment. He was a tall man, with dark whiskers and moustache, elegantly attired in the approved mode and fashion of the day. His eyes were small, piercing and restless. There was an habitual sneer of half contempt half indifference upon his countenance, and his hands, though small and white, were powerful, sinewy, vice-like, and determined in the grip. Young Percy was but a mere boy compared to him, yet there was a litheness in Harry’s figure, and a handsome gentleness of demeanour that bespoke good blood, fine family, unmistakable valour and a determination when aroused, far more than any one would expect in one of his years. To Count Vincento’s great surprise the door was closed after him the moment he entered the apartment, . ‘Ts this the man?” the doctor asked his patient, in a half- whisper, Lizzie Ashton half opened her F COMMUC WOOL drooping eye-lids for a (COL)