Lady Evelyn — page 141: what you’re looking at

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

ia Rejected. sex, was not beyond being amused by another lady. He must speak to-night. The thought crossed him more than once with—tell it not in Gath !—much the same sen- sation as, in his nursery days, the recollection of a Gose of nauseous medicine loomed in perspective. And yet this high-born beauty was everything mortal men could seek ia a wile. ; The ball whirled on—the “wee sma’ hours ayond the twal” had come; and out beyond all this glowing lizht and gorgeous profusion of flowers, this music 2nd danc- ing and brilliant assemblage, a bleak, raw racrnins was breaking over the world, shrouded in mist, and Db: ‘tter with wild, wailing wind. It was no easy matter for the host to monopolize the belle of the ball and bear her off to soime secret spot, where he might fall at her feet and breathe his consuming passion. Fortune seemed to favor him at last. He had watched her glide away and vanish into a curtained recess down the long vista of drawing-rooms; but Lady Clydesmore held him captive, and he listened to her airy chatter, and “smiled and smiled,” and wished her most devoutly at— Joppa! And it was only when a long-haired, bearded poet came along—the latest lion in the literary menagerie —that she released her chafing serf, and permitted “him to rush to his doom. She stood within the curtained arch, La Rose de Castile, but—not alone. Beside the iall, tropical plants—the gorgeous South American flowers—a man stood near her, whose face, poor-wretch! told the tale of his misery as surely as the face of some luckless Russian serf under the knout. : Trevannance-never forgot that tableau vivant all his life long—the miserable day breaking without the deep Maltese window in rain and wind and gloom; the toss- ing trees of the park; the far-off ink-black sea; the bell- ing of the deer under the beeches; and within, the soft warmth, the rich light, the delicious music, the perfume <n luxury, and those two figures—one draped in glitter- ing silks and laces and jewels, the haughty head droop- ing, the exquisite face pale, startled, sorrowful, and his grace of Amethyst, pallid with fruitless love and man’s unbearable pain. “For God’s sake, Lady Evelyn, don’t Beige me mad ! I can’t live without you—I can’t, by ‘ comicbooks.co S -