Lady Evelyn — page 139: what you’re looking at

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

ae ee Rejected. ek. the little eolden- -winged birds a paradise, belles all last season in crowded London drawing-rooms, had reason to tremble for the nrize they hoped to win—Vivian Trevannance would ask Evelyn Desmond to be his wife. He had been her constant companion for the past two months—a whole lifetime down in the country—and that grand and uplifted beauty. who had-dukes with fifty thousand a year at her feet, had condescended to be sweet and gracious to the lord of Royal Rest. There was al- wavs a smile to welcome him when he came; she was ever ready to allow him to be her escort and cavalier on all occas:ons, for he was entertaining, and could talk to her as few men she met in society could talk. She was very fracious and very beautiful; he was the envied of every man heknew. Her father looked bland approval. There could be little doubt what the answer would be when the momentous little question was asked; and yet—oh, innate perversity of man!—there was not the faintest thrill of rapture in the breast of Vivian Trevannance as he stood at the oriel window, with the dusky portraits of his dead- and-gone ancestors gloomung down upon him from the ; wa'ls, He must marry some time—it was the inevitable lot of - man—as well now as laier. He was very much in love, no doubt. Not with that fierce and frantic and desperate passion that some fellows get up, and which makes the stock in trade of Tennysons and Mussets and Merediths _ —not with that jealous, fiery, devouring, and altogether | uncomfortable flame that scorches some impassioned and undisciplined hearts to cinders—but with a gentlemanly, well-bred love ala mode. She was beautiful and stately, and proud as a young queen—three very essential requis- ites in the future lady of Royal Rest; he was prepared to be a most devoted husband, as husbands go. No doubt they wouid be as happy a pair as ever made a sensation at ~t. George’s, Hanover Square. | ~ “And Amethyst and Rivers, and the Most Noble, the Marquis of Rocksilver, will very likely blow their brains out,” was the friendly »wind-up of Mr. Trevannance’s cogitations. “Come weal, come woe, this night, my peer- less Castilian Rose, the last of the house of Trevannance shall prostrate himself at thy imperial feet and hear his i doom.” | ) “com ero cS ne ap