I Forbid the Banns! — page 47: what you’re looking at

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

ON AN OCEAN ISLAND. 37 “My name is Bertha Lancaster ; and yours?” “ Charlton—Julian Charlton. Now we are fairly on our way to a low level.” Almost in silence they descended that extraordinary stairway together. Before they had completed half their journey the sunset guns from the fort had sent the wild echoes flying from cliff to cliff. By the time they had reached the last steps the little town was wrapped in dim- ness. ‘The lights of the shipping in the harbor were quiver- ing over the waves. On entering the hotel they were met by a rather stout, middle-aged lady wearing a bonnet, the strings of which were flying very wildly. ‘You have been a long time, Bertha,” said she; ‘‘a long time. A steamer has called at the island, and I have secured berths for the voyage to England. Miriam and I have been packing for the past half hour. We must be aboard to-night, the agent says.” ‘“ What is the name of the steamer, aunt?” asked the girl. “The Carnarvon Castle.” “Why, that is the steamer by which I am on my way to England,” cried Charlton. ‘We shall be _ fellow-pas- sengers.”’ There was undoubtedly a tone of exultation in the way he made this announcement. The girl did not give any sign of joy, however. On the contrary, she turned pale and seemed distressed. ‘There was a silence that lasted for close upon a minute. It was broken by a laugh from the girl—a little laugh with some- thing of scorn in its ripples. When it had ended her face was not pale, but rosy. Julian Charlton had an uneasy ects that there was some- thing of defiance in her laugh. Who could it be—what could it be that she was defying? CORNIECLIOOKS (20)