Rose Mortimer; Or, The Ballet-Girl's Revenge — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

5 ROSE MORTIMER, a a ti Eagerly Rose listened, to learn from the sounds, if possible, who was the victor. She fancied she heard her father’s voice in a tone of pitiful supplication. She rose and ran to the door of her room, for she felt she could stand this horrid uncertainty no longer. She must go and aid her father—her poor aged father—who was struggling against such fearful odds. Poor girl! She did not remember that the door of her room had been fastened on the outside. She threw herself violently against it, as if her fra- gile form was sufficient to break it down. She strove to smash the lock with the poker, but without success. What could she do? As a prisoner she stood in her own room while the sounds of the struggle beneath her grew louder and louder. She felt sure that in the tumult she could distinguish her father’s voice. Then came a low deep gasping: moan, and a heavy fall. After that, silence ! The solemn stillness was even more awful to bear than the noise of the scuffle. Suddenly an idea occurred to Rose. Seizing the fire-irons she forced up a part of the old and rotten floor, but her heart beat so violently at the thought of the horrors which might meet her eyes when she saw into the lower room that for some minutes she could not go on with her task. Presently recovering herself, she: set to work, and carefully scraped away sufficient plaster to enable her to peer into the chamber of mystery. She could see nothing. She listened intently, but there was no sound to tell of any living creature being there. In her eagerness to see more of that dreadful room she leaned forward, forgetting that the lath and plaster were far too weak to support her. She felt them bulge with her weight. They yielded more and more. She struggled tou reach the beam which had sup- ported the flooring, but with a loud crash the ceiling gave way beneath her, and she fell into the room beneath. For some little time she lay stunned and insensible, but after a few minutes she revived. Bruised and hurt, but happily without any serious injury, she rose to her feet and gazed fearfully around. The scanty furniture of the room had been all piled up before the door to make a barricade. It was covered with blood! Great pools lay on the floor, while in three places a hand literally soaking with blood had been pressed against the white plaster of the walls. A sickening horror came over Rose. The room appeared to be turning round with her, All colour deserted her cheeks. Her limbs trembled so that she could hardly move. Just then were borne towards her the chimes from the church steeple. It was three o’clock in the morning. No one living or dead was to be seen. The room was deserted, and, save for the tell-tale blood, Rose would have been inclined to believe the whole of the struggle but a fever-wrought phantom of the brain. ** Could it be fancy ?” As her eyes roamed about the chamber of crime, she thought she heard a low chuckling laugh. She paused and listened. ‘Ha ha! tal hat? It was not a good cheery wholesome laugh, but a low, quiet, demoniacal chuckle. Whence did it proceed ? There was no one near her. Suddenly raising her eyes she saw, peering through the hole which she had made in the ceiling, the hated face of her assailant on the previous night, when Jack Halliday had so bravely come to her rescue. “€ Abel Booth !” Her cheek blanched and her lips quivered as she spoke the name. “¢ At your service, my dear,” said the man, laughing, ** Did you think to escape me ?’’ Rose was too frightened to reply. *‘Tsn’t it nice, my pretty one,’’ said the ruffian; ‘‘we’ve got the house all to ourselves, and no nasty scene-painter can come here to spoil our love-making. Ah! my beauty, you will have to listen to me, whether yon like it or not.”’ Rose shrank as far away as she could. Abel Booth noticed the movement and laughed. ‘‘ Don’t be frightened, my dear ; people always like me when they know me well enough.” ‘¢ What have you done with my father?’’ asked the poor girl, her anxiety getting the better of her alarm. ‘What will you give me if I tell you?” “‘T have nothing to give.”’ ‘Oh! yes, you have. A kiss from those pretty lips would be a reward for a king.” Rose shuddered. **T tell you what, Miss Rose, if I am at your side, I can talk to you a deal better than up here, peeping at you like a bird in a cage, so I shall just come down. Did you come through this hole? “Lord! how nice you must have looked a-coming through! I wish I’d been there to see you.”’ As he spoke Rose saw that he was about to put his threat into execution, and swing himself down into the room where she was. With a cry of terror she darted to the barri- cade which still blocked up the doorway. Hastily she scrambled to the top, just as Abel Booth dropped into the room. The young girl darted through the doorway, and the ruffian sprang after her, with an explanation of baffled rage. She had but a short start, but “ Fear to her feet lent wings,’’ and she ran on, knowing that her only chance of safety lay in flight. In wild alarm she flew down the stuirs, dragged open the street door, and rushed into the street. She heard her pursuer’s footsteps close behind her, and every moment she expected to feel his hand upon her shoulder. Half fainting with fatigue and fear, she still ran on, and paused not until, her strength utterly failing her, she was fain to cling to a doorpost to save herself from falling. As she did so, the surrounding objects seemed to dance confusedly before her, a dark cloud fell over her eyes, and she sank down in a death-like swoon, CHAPTER IV. GLITTERING VICE—THE SWINDLER AT HOME— PREPARING FOR CONQUEST—THE BLACKLEG— THE, DUEL—A COWARD’S ACT—RETRIBUTION— HORSEWHIPPED — DISCOVERY — DISGRACE — THE PROFLIGATE’S VOW. THE Count Lerno had been a resident in England for more than two years. When he first appeared in the fashionable world no omircboo <S,,C. O19