Rose Mortimer; Or, The Ballet-Girl's Revenge — page 139: what you’re looking at

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

THE BALLET-GIRL’S REVENGE. 133 0S ET i a a a The ruffian was not particular about correcting his girls in private, and one day Rose positively dis- covered him standing over one of the shrinking girls with a whip. Her blood boiled of course to see a girl treated thus by ae inhuman master, and she straightway inter- ered. The abuse that Signor Bowerini lavished upon Rose Mortimer showed plainly enough that he was not at all refined, and savoured more of Bilingsgate than Florence, his avowed native place. However, Rose had passed through too many trying ordeals in which personal violence had played a con- spicuous part to quail before the bully. She bearded the tiger in his lair, and brought off his victim. It was kindly meant, but proved to be a lamentable mistake, The poor girl told our heroine in secret that she had even suffered more severely since than before her | interference. One day shortly after this occurrence Rose obtained an interview with the girl. It was the eldest, against whom Signor Bowerini appeared to cherish the greatest spite, and Rose took to her own apartment. ‘“My poor Blanche,” said our heroine, ‘‘ why do you bear this brutality ?”’ “Alas! What can I do?” “Do!” exclaimed Rose. ‘* Why do you stay with a man who treats you thus vilely ?” **T am bound.”’ ‘¢ Apprenticed ?”’ 66 Yes.” ‘Then cancel your indentures.”’ “J would willingly ; but he will not.” ‘¢ But have you tried him ?” fF No.’? “Then do so. Believe me, he cannot object. dislikes you so much.”’ “Ah! You don’t know him.” ‘* Possibly.” ‘¢ Nay, I’m sure you don’t,’’ said Blanche Bowerini, earnestly. ‘‘ If you did, you would quite understand why I should not even dare to broach the subject.” ‘‘ Dare ?” iterated Rose, impatiently. ‘* Have some courage, child. “Hush!” said the girl with a shfudder. “You don’t know all that I suffer—all that I have suffered— by attempting to fly from this cruel man.” ‘< Then appeal to a magistrate.”’ ‘¢ He would slay me.”’ “‘ Never fear that,’’? said Rose. ‘* He’s a coward at heart, and would not dare to venture far for fear of the authorities.”’ ‘¢ If I could only think so !” “You must. Now listen. Before a month is over my engagement here will have terminated, and I shall move onwards. Then if you like to mix your for- tunes with mine, you shall. We shall be some sort of protection for each other.” ; The girl pressed her hand in silent gratitude. The tears started to her eyes, and she seized our heroine in her arms and embraced her tenderly. ‘Thanks, thanks, my dear Miss Mortimer,” she exclaimed. ‘‘ You are indeed good.”’ ‘Yon must not think of that,’’ said Rose. ‘Be true to yourself, and your difficulties are at an end.” “©T will, I will.’ “'That’s right.’’ ‘¢T must go now,”’ she said, drying away her tears. ‘¢ Tt will be an excuse for more cruelty if I am late in the ring.’’ - “ll come with you,’ said Rose. ‘‘I’m not in the first piece to night, and am not wanted at the theatre until half-past eight.’’ yt They had been so much engaged in this conversa- He tion of their future prospects that they had not ob- served the rapid flight of time. The consequence was that it was a regular rush to the circus for Blanche Bowerini, and a scramble to get dressed (?) for a grand trick act which she had to perform, : Rose Mortimer, like all the professionals in the town, had the free entrée into the circus, and she placed herself in the nearest spot to the stable door, through which both artistes and horses had to pass. This was that she might give a word of encourage- ment to Blanche Bowerini as she passed. Such speed had the latter observed in her eques- trian toilet that Rose had not been seated more than five minutes when the director of the circle announced in the ring the girl’s appearance in these words :— “Mademoiselle Blanche Bowerini will have the honour of appearing in her celebrated trick act en- titled ‘ The Flight of the Arab’s Bride,’ ”’ Why it was thus entitled was not particularly clear. However, this did not appear greatly to trouble the audience. The name of the ill-used circus-girl was greeted by all with thunders of applause. The whole tent shook again with the enthusiastic greetings of the hungry anticipators of a dangerous tour of the brilliant equestrienne. The time was past for her entrée. And now the audience began to murmur. ‘* Dear, dear,’? murmured one:person, mentally. ‘* She is late after all.’’ Not so. Miss Blanche Bowerini was at the entrance then. Some one amongst the audience had descried the fluttering of her muslin skirts. ~The fact was that the poor girl had encountered her brutal lord, who was quarrelling with her. Words were exchanged, for Blanche, emboldened by the prospect of a release from his tyranny, had dared to retort. Suddenly a scream was heard. It was Blanche’s voice. “Ah!” she cried, ‘ Unhand me! me !”’ Then there was a struggle, and the girl tore herself from the signor, and dashed into the ring. Signor Bowerini had now lost all presence of mind. He flew after her, and, heedless of the presence of the spectators, cut at the shrieking girl savagely with a horsewhip which he grasped. “Help! help {”’ ‘¢ Bowerini!”’ cried the ring master. “‘ Stop that!” called several of the troupe. But the signor’s vicious blood was up, and he heard nothing. He slashed most mercilessly at the shrieking Blanche. And now the blood streamed down her face. ‘¢ Shame! shame !’’ cried the spectators. The cries began with this, but soon grew worse. Men jumped into the ring and flew to the rescue. The audience flew from all parts, and Signor Bowerini got very roughly handled. He struggled and struck out viciously, snarled, and even bit like a rabid dog. But this was a misfortune for him. The men caught him, dragging him in every direc- tion, until every bone in his ruffianly body was dis- located. Rose ran off to poor Blanche’s assistance imme- diately. This led to some curious and startling incidents in our heroine’s career, of which we shall have to speak shortly. For the present the further movements of Clara St. John claim our attention. You will kill COMMUCIOOKS.COln