Lady Evelyn — page 153: what you’re looking at

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

- bleed! Oh, you mist not T4600 OR he Rescue, ‘‘She has fainted,” he said, calmly. “Better so. A nar- row escape, my dear Lady Clydesmore. I rather think you owe your life to Vivian here. Ha! the ponies wound- ed, bleeding! How is this?” Lady Clydesmore told her startling tale. The four men listened: aghast. “Fired a revolver three times in succession! Good heavens! Lady Clydesmore, who was this man?” asked General ‘T'revannance. “IT had but a glimpse of him. He looked like a beggar or tramp—a wretched object. But he vanished as quickly as he came.” _ There was one among her listeners who turned white as he listened. Surely, the Earl of Clontarf knew this mysterious assailant. “It must have been a madman, an escaped lunatic,” he said, decidedly, ‘‘No one else would perpetrate sucn an outrage. We must search for him presently. Our busi- ness now is to convey these ladies home. Vivian, I wish > you would ride forward and prepare them at Warbeck | tad 8 ad “But, Mr. Trevannance,”’ Lady Clydesmore interposed, “your hands are frightfully wounded. See how they “Mere scratches, dear Lady Clydesmore,” Trevannance interposed, lightly, as he leaped into the saddle; “not worth a thought. I will ride on, as the earl suggests, and prepare them at the Hall.” He was gone as he spoke, leaving the party behind to follow-at their leisure. He reached the Hall, saw the housekeeper, informed her of the accident, and inquired for Lady Evelyn Desmond. Lady Evelyn, attended by her maid, had gone to the village after luncheon to visit _ some of her poor pensioners, and had not yet returned. “lf she does return before her mother, break the news to her gently,” Trevannance said. ‘The countess is not in the least injured, only frightened. It will not do to alarm Lady Evelyn needlessly.” He departed again and rode homeward. To tell the truth, his hands were badly lacerated, his arms stiff and _ painful, and half wrenched from their sockets. “Tlow coolly my Lord of Clontarf took it!’ he thought. L vane he would not have lost an hour’s sleep. icbooks. “3