Rose Mortimer; Or, The Ballet-Girl's Revenge — page 24: what you’re looking at

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

ec i a i 18 ROSE MORTIMER ; OR, All was silent as the grave. She knew nothing, heard nothing, of her pursuer’s whereabouts till a cold clammy hand rested on her bare shoulders. With a scream she started from her place of con- cealment. With an oath and a yell of triumph, he followed her. Then, her eyes glaring fiercely, like those of a tiger at bay, ‘she turned and confronted him. With impetuous force he rushed on her and seized her by the throat. Her brain whirled round, she almost lost conscious- ness, and sank to the eround. With a low laugh he bent over her, and raised on high the arm holding the cruel long-bladed knife. Then only was it that Rose recovered her pre- sence of mind sufficiently to act. Striking upward with her tiny dagger, its sharp point entered the cheek of her antagonist as he bent over her, and as he moved started a crimson stream across his scowling face. With a frightful yell, he put up both his hands, for the blood, raining over his face, blinded him. To do this he was forced to relinquish his hold of Rose, who, not slow to seize this opportunity of escape, ‘pushed him from her with all her force, and staggered to her feet. There was not a moment to lose. How was her escape to be made ? The ladder was gone! One chance alone remained—the window. It was just large enough for her to squeeze through, and, to her great joy, she saw the tide had risen con- siderably, and that the leap was nothing very terrific for an expert diver. Without a moment’s hesitation she plunged head- first into the muddy river. As she regained the surface, a few strokes took her | to the boat, into which she clambered. Then, looking up at the window whence she had jumped, she saw the hideous blood-stained features of her would-be murderer glaring furiously at her. Her nimble fingers speedily unfastened the rope with which the boat was moored, and then, with one vigorous push, she launched the frail bark out into the stream. She was only just in time, for again that ill-fa- voured face appeared at the window, and a couple of sharp reports im quick succession from a pistol, and the sprinkling of the shot like hail in the water around her, warned her that she had no time to spdre. With afew rapid strokes of the sculls Rose took the boat still further away from the land, and then, directing its head down the stream, the tide being in her favour, she soon turned a bend in the river, and lost sight of the hateful house. Now she had time for reflection ; so, unshipping her sculls, she allowed the boat to drift with the current while she endeavoured to settle the course which it would be the best for her to pursue. It was now nearly broad daylight, and in a few minutes she would reach the more crowded part of the river, where she would certainly attract attention, which, however flattering it might be, was not at all what she desired. While yet she pondered her eye rested upon a bundle lying in the stern of the boat. — Eagerly she seized it, and found that it contained a suit of boy’s clothes, which, although somewhat too large for her, would, nevertheless, serve the pur- poses of disguise and warmth ; for, be it remembered, a ballet-dress, however pretty, is not exactly suited to a river excursion on a frosty December morning. Again seizing the sculls, she impelled the boat towards the shore at a part where a reed-grown bank Seemed to offer her the best concealment, and ina very short time emerged, looking as pretty and fragile a Sailor-boy as you can imagine. ** I’ve got the boat here,” she said to herself, “ so I may as well float down as far as Westminster.” So saying, she again stepped into the little bark, and in a few minutes was once more floating gaily down in mid-stream towards London. By and bye the towers of the Houses of Parliament came in sight, and then Rose directed the skiff to- wards a landing -place just on the upper side of the bridge. It was yet early, and but few people were about, but some half-dozen watermen were lounging at the ier. pe Hullo, little ’un,’’ cried one, ‘‘ where do you hail from ?” ** Likely-looking lad enough,”’ said another. ‘“ Ugh! do better in petticoats,’ growled a third, It required some littte courage on the part of Rose to walk past these men, for the dress she wore was strange to her, and she much feared she might be discovered by her awkwardness. ** Here, you fellows, look after my boat,’’ she said, in as consequential and swaggering a tone as she could assume, and then, putting her hands into her pockets, she strolled past. the group of men and walked sharply in the direction of Mrs, Halliday’s house, which she had learnt to call ‘‘ home.” Twenty minutes’ brisk walking brought her to the door, which happened to be open. Rose entered, rapidly ascended the stair Ss, and knocked at the door of Mrs. Halliday’s room. ““ Come in,’’ said that worthy old lady. Rose availed herself of the permission; but when Mrs. Halliday, who had not yet completed her toilet, saw what she believed to be a good-looking sailor boy enter her room she gave a shrill scream, and hastily threw her dress over her shoulders. ‘Don’t you know me ?7—Rose ?”’ said our heroine. ‘‘ Lor me! and soit is; andoh! the state Jack’s been in about you ; and where have you been? which the dress, it becomes you well, though fine feathers don’t make fine birds, and I hopeit’s no harm ; none of those masked balls and wickedness, because it’s pale you are, my darling, and a little drop of brandy, though it is early in the morning, and such are courses I don’t approve, and you hayn’t told me a bit about ib syet,?* So ran on the worthy kind-hearted talkative old lady, patting Rose on the cheek as she spoke, and holding her hand in her own. Rose commenced a narration of her adventures, but before she had half told them her strength gave way, and she burst into a flood of tears. * Bless you, my dear, don’t fret,’’ cried the old lady ; ‘* your troubles are all over now.’’ Good old soul! had Rose’s troubles even began? Oh! if she had known what fearful fate awaited her! what dreadful end she was rapidly approaching ! CHAPTER VII. THE NEW DRESS—THE DARK SUSPICION—THE ABDUCTION—NIGHT—DESPAIR —THE VILLAIN AND HIS COMPANIONS—THE APPEAL, For many long weary hours Rose lay ina state of dreamy unconsciousness, Sleep refused to.come to her relief, but, as she lay with closed eyes courting repose, the events which had pressed so quickly upon her through the last night once more became realities to her fevered brain.