Rose Mortimer; Or, The Ballet-Girl's Revenge — page 198: what you’re looking at

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

192 ROSE MORTIMER. a ee Ee TLL ILL en Oe ‘“‘What! Mr. Halliday ?” ejaculated Rose. “ Is it possible? Oh, how glad I am to see you! How are you? You are surely not coming to the theatre? Are you engaged ?” ce No—7 *¢ How well you look !’’ continued Rose. growing quite stout. Shake hands again.’ ‘‘ I’m so pleased that you are glad to see me,”’ said the poor artist, ‘‘ for I’ve had rare work to find you, I can tell you.’ <‘T dare say.” ‘‘But you must forgive all this joy, this exuberant delight, my dear Rose—Miss Mortimer—I beg your pardon—” ‘No, no; call me Rose if you will. prefer it.” ‘‘Then I will. your father.”’ “What of him?’ asked Rose, her expression changing on the instant. ‘‘ Does he still seek to con- trol my actions? I would not have you think me an undutiful child, Mr. Halliday, but I have borne so much that he has forfeited all authority over me, believe me.” ‘‘ Be re-assured, Rose. It is not that. is—is grievously ill.” “* Not dead 2”? The artist nodded. Rose raised her handkerchief to her face and wiped away a solitary tear, and then she was as calm and collected as ever. ‘““T am glad of it,” she said. ‘“‘I have long ceased to love my father, and it was painful in the extreme to see him rushing on to his ruin day by day. 99 ‘‘He charged me dying to implore your forgive- “You are I should I bear some unpleasant tidings of Your father ness.’? ‘Oh, he had it unasked,”’ said Rose. no animosity to any one living, dead father.’’ ‘‘He gave me also this packet to deliver to you.” ‘“Thank you. Some letter I suppose. Well, I will read it at a more convenient opportunity.”’ These words had barely passed her lips when a mounted messenger galloped up to the stage door with a letter in his hand. He sprang from the saddle and ran up to the door calling out, ”<é Miss Mortimer.” “For me?’ said Rose. ‘‘ Who does this come from, pray?” “Miss Clara St. John, Sloeford House, Sloeford, miss. No time to be lost. My lady is dying fast. Doctor says can’t survive the night.’’ Rose hastily tore open the letter, and to her sur prise read as follows :— “JT cherish much less to a ‘‘ Follow the bearer of the present immediately, without loss of time, if you would know all that can affect your future, all that ts of vital import to you. Lose not an instant, for my breath is almost spent, and I would fain do an act of restitution ere I die to atone for the multitude of sins with which Iam loaded. ““CLARA St. JOHN.” Rose, having read it through, handed it to Jack Halliday for his advice. At the same time she gave him a hurried sketch of what had taken place at Sloeford House —the tragedy of which she had been an eye-witness. ‘‘ Now, tell me pray,’’ she said, ‘‘ after what has occurred, do you not rather believe this to be aruse-- some fresh scheme to get me into their power ?”’ ‘¢ Possibly, and yet I would advise you to go.” ‘‘Yes. Something seems to urge me to go at once, although I apprehend danger.” ‘‘T will accompany you. Therefore fear nothing. But do you know this Clara St. John ?’’ ‘Yes, slightly. I know that she was in Some way connected with that infamous Count Lerno.”’ ‘“Lerno? How strangely your enemies are all mixed up !” CHAPTER LXXVI. FINIS. WHEN Rose arrived at Sloeford House she was immediately ushered into the presence of the dying Clara St. John. The bold unscrupulous woman of the world was now not even the shadow of her former self. — The injuries which she had received in wreaking her final vengeance upon Count Lerno had slain her. Horribly mutilated, she lay in the last fearful agonies of death. Rose hastened to her death-bed with her friend Jack Halliday. ‘ Rose Mortimer,” said Clara St. John, “‘ the feeble life yet remaining within me is fast departing; but I have that to say which would not Jet me rest in my grave did I not disclose it. The Earl of Sloeford, who. now owns this title and noble property, is but a base impostor, an assassin.’’ ** Alas! I know—” “‘ You know it ?’”’ interrupted Clara St, John i in 1 the greatest astonishment, ‘“‘Ay. I witnessed the murder myself from the garden. But I should not mention it were you not in your last moments, and it cannot injure the usurper.’ “Cannot? Nay, it must,’’ said the dying woman, with startling energy. ‘* Your duty to God and man, to dead and living alike, demands that you should pursue this Spencer Bellisle with the deadliest ven- geance. Else you are no true girl — no true daughter.” " ‘¢ What mean you ?’’ demanded our heroine. “Mean that you cannot, must not allow to escape unpunished the man whom you saw murder your own Sather !” Rose Mortimer felt that she was trembling vio- lently. Controlling her emotions with a powerful effort, she begged the dying woman to explain the meaning of her singular exhortation. ““ You do not understand me,’’ said Clara. “ It is but natural, for my words must sound wild and strange to you. But know, then, that Reginald Bellisle, Earl of Sloeford, was your father—that you are his only child, and heiress to his vast domains.” Rose started back affrightedly. She began to imagine that the injuries received by the dying woman had turned her brain. “You mistake,’”’ she said. ‘‘It is true that my father is dead, but only recently. I have here a packet which was delivered to me even as your mes-: Senger arrived,”’ “‘ Ah! Seymour dead?” exclaimed Clara. ‘‘ Then perhaps the proof may be wanting too. Break your packet, and let us know the contents of it.’’ Rose did as Clara directed, and found the outer wrapper to be a letter from Thomas Seymour, alias Mortimer, in which he renounced all claim to be the father of Rose Mortimer, and stated the circumstances by which she had passed into his possession when a very young child. He begged in earnest terms her forgiveness for the cruel treatment received at his hands, as he was dying then, and hoped that he in some little way compen- Comicooolkxs CO