Ivan the Terrible; or, Dark Deeds of Night — page 131: what you’re looking at

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

IVAN THE TERRIBLE. Darby said this in his rough way, but, nevertheless, with much genuine feeling, | Daylight now burst upon her and she buried her face in her hands to give way to a frantic passion of tears, for now she knew from his strange but brotherly remarks how much the rough groom loved her. ¢ We must shortly leave this horrid den. Perhaps I may never have the chance to speak to you thus again. Think of what I have said, dear Jessie ; quit this place with me, as I know you will, and pursue the path you have always done, and when this trial of your virtue is over, you will obtain your reward in a life of peace.” “But we shall meet again, Darby, in the earl’s household. Is A aie for me to tell you how much I admire and respect you 9 “You have seen next to nothing of me as yet, Jessie, and, upon a hasty impression such as you have formed, it is wrong. Some time hence you will discover your error ; you may see others you can learn to love dearly, Jessie, and then see how wrong you were to make such a confession of your kind regard to me.” “Oh, no, no; if it is wrong I cannot help it. I shall not change. I can die, and care not; but I cannot change, Darby; and so I will, even if it be wrong, tell you I love you with my whole soul, with my whole heart. Others in my life have tried to make me love them. How they have pursued me, flattered me, offered jewels and money! All—all have they tried, but Iwas unmoved, They could not make me care for them; but you, I could go down on my knees and weep at your feet; your slightest look or wish 1 would obey. My greatest happiness on earth would be to say that you loved me, not as I do you, but that you only loved me, just loved me, that is all I wish, Darby, for you are good, brave, and worthy of any girl’s love,” said Jessie, holding down her head and blushing, While this whispered conversation was progressing between Darby and Jessie, the company in the parlour were very noisy, and spoke in very harsh tones regarding the saucy and unceremonious manner in which Darby had treated Sir Humphrey Greathead, their acquaintance and friend, With surly looks and many half-suppressed oaths, several, 127 in truth, nearly all of the parlour company departed, leaving no one in the room save three or four strangers, who had lately arrived. Though Darby was not aware of who the strangers might be, on account of their disguise, he imagined from their ee conversation that they were not absolutely enemies of is. They were none other than Briny Bob, Joe, Red-Jacket and Handsome Ned, who, from what they had heard, had been directed to the spot. But what had become of young Harry Percy ? He had directed his friends to remain within that particular house, but had not entered it himself, saying that they must stay there until he himself came, which would only be when any great danger threatened Darby and Jessie, which he imagined would surely follow from the great anger of Sir Humphrey Greathead. When the company in the parlour had departed save the strangers, a fine-looking fellow rose and approached Darby and Jessie. ‘A \strange adventure tais, my young fellow, truly,” cried Red-Jacket, slapping Darby on the shoulder in good humour. Darby for a moment was surprisdd but pleased to recognise Red-Jacket as a friend so near. +“ Ah, strange, indeed. Thou hast asword, Red-Jacket,” he said, hastily. “T have—a right trusty blade too, Darby; always at the service of young Harry Percy.” “ And thou, friend?” he said, addressing Handsome Ned. ‘“ Canst thou not see it ?’’ was the jocular reply. “TI do, and can be wielded by a strong hand and a bold heart, I expect you will find need of both ere we get free of this accursed den. Would I had not entered it! Nor would I, save for Jessie’s sake,” said Darby. “Why, how now, my bold boy ?” said Red-Jacket, laughing. ‘Hast thou done the deed of a man and art afraid of the consequences ?” : “Not I; Ifear nought that a man need fear opposed to reasonable odds, you know, but I do rot care to be butchered in cold blood |” (70 be continued.) THE RED HOUSE AT ST. PETERSBURGH. — (Continued from page 120.) —_-+ Foedor knew not whether to throw himself at the feet of Vaninka oron the heart of her father; but, feeling that the first moment ought to be devoted to respect and gratitude, he precipitated him- self into the arms of the general. To do otherwise was to avow his love; and had he the right to do so without knowing if it were reciprocated ? é ’ Foedor turned ; and, as at the bour of parting, bent his knee belore Vaninka; but a moment had sufficed for the haughty young maiden to subdue the feeling she had betrayed. The blush that had suffused her counienance had disappeared ; she had resumed her haughty hearing, and became again cold as a statue of alabaster—the v ork of pride, begun by nature and finished by education. Foedor kissed her hand; that hand was trembling but frozen; he felt his heart fail him, and thought that he was about to die. “Well, Vaninka,” said the general, ‘‘ why are you so cold toa friend who has caused us at the same time so much of terror and of joy? Come, Foedor, embrace my daughter.” . = Foedor rose beseechingly, but then remained motionless, waiting another permission to confirm that of the general. in “Do you not hear my father?” said Vaninka, smiling, but unable to contro) the emotion which subdued her voice. oedor approached his lips to the cheek of Vaninka ; and, as he held her hand, it seemed to him that, by a nervous and involuntary movement, that hand had lightly pres ed his own. ; A feeble cry of joy was nearly escaping him, when, casting his eyes upon her, he was in his turn terrified by her paleness ; her lips were blanthed like those of a corpse. The general made Foedor sit down at table. Vaninka resumed her place; and, as by chance, the light was behind her, the father, who had no suspicion, saW nothing of the effect produced. : Breakfast, as may well be supposed, passed in relating and hear- ing the details of the strange campaign, whieh had commenced onder the burning sun of Italy and ended among the glaciers of Switzerland. Otie may image the great interest the general fook in this narra~ tive. The young captain's epaniette’s, his breast covered with decorations, proved that he had forgotten himself in the relation ; but. the general, too generous to tear partaking the disgrace of Suvarow, bad already paid a \isit to the dying feld-marsh.!, and had learned from him with what courage his young proiéze had conducted himself. When, theretore, Foedor’s narrative was finished, it was the general’s turn to enumerate all that he ne heard of the young man during so short a period of service; an added, that the next day he should go and ask -permission of the emperor to take him as his regularly appointed aide-de-camp. Foedor, at these words, wished to throw himself at the knees of the general, who, however, received him a second time in his arms, and, in order to give hima proof of the certainty of his success, showed him, the same day, the apartment he was to occupy i the house. On the following morning the general returned from the palace of St. Michael, announcing the happy news that Lis request had beem complied with. ' : Foedor was overwhelmed with joy. From this moment he was to make part of the general's family— live under the same roof as Vaninka, see her every hour, meet lier in the apartments, see here pass like an apparition at the end of a corridor, find himself twice a day with her at the same table! Commicoooks.coni