Lady Evelyn — page 109: what you’re looking at

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

tos ue Mother and Daughter, ESS i gayly away toward Eve setting stin, the beggar in the inky cloak reared himself upright and watched them out of sight with vengeful, tigerish eyes. — “Bor twenty years he has prospered. An earl’s coro- net, ill-gotten, has graced His head; the woman he loved “has been his own; wealth and honor and ereatness among men, all are his. For twenty years I have been an outcast and a felon, ill and poor, despised and forgotten, and his daughter flings me alms as she would meat to a dog! Well, it is my turn now, and I'll tear the coronet from his head, the honor from his name, the wife from his bosom! Vil lower that beautiful, haughty head of yours, my lovely Lady Evelyn, to the dust! Roderick Desmond, in his. bloody grave, shall be avenged at last!” CHAPTER IV. MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. She lay on a low couch before the fire—Inez, Countess of Clontarf. A confirmed invalid, she was always chilly. Accustomed to the tropic heat of her own lovely, sunlit land, England, with its cold rains, its easterly winds, and damp sea fogs, was only rendered endurable, even in its warmest summer months, by a glowing fire. She lay back amid the silken, rose-hued: pillows of her — lounge, watching the red glow of the embers, whilst the cleam of the wax-lights shone down on her pale, dark, delicate beauty—in the’velvet depth’ of the solemn, shin- ing eyes—on the chiseled, beautiful lips, compressed in a hard, thin line of pain. She looked like some frail waxen japonica—tovely and fragile, pale as a snow-wreath, and with deep lines of suf- fering and endurance marking the low brow and delicate | mouth, Its silver swinging chandeliers; its inlaid © -toilet-tables, Hi hd FSA RATING ean ECR HORIECHOOKS.co Beautiful she must ever be, even in Hecay: but it was a worn and weary beauty now, and the rare smile that came and went so swiftly was cold as moonshine on snow. _ The dainty little boudoir was all that heart could desire, or wealth procure, or refined taste suggest. Its rose . hangings gave a delicious air 6f warmth and mellowness. I “ rn ¥ % 4 ii pe \