Lady Evelyn — page 216: what you’re looking at

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

en SB tes De tied Gat Nn ee . awe Wk RP ed 8 AL ie lee Pr sae I a? Salk Bee ee, Ver y \s ‘ Oy atiep' a oS. — 4 *! a a ats Bees bi eae F Di ¢ ¥ y Phe eh) sith nl ECan ‘Shee p98 ai ee wetness? ee S the ae Loe a ey 4 Ohne ea mie ib 4 Fs he ei ae ms | s ui, hed ‘ +H} Soe el 1 me ~ ; ¥ . , e a, * . 2 (ea SS ie Ne ee, ' Xf 2 i, te : ° a: ‘Trish he may Ox nay ea a of his birthplace and ee: ; Iam in profoundest i ignorance. That the history has been a-singular and romantic one, I am also positive. It would be strange and melodramatic and sensational, and all that,’’ with a slight laugh, “if he turned out, after all, to be the man you think dead. It’s not likely, you know, but still Ah! excuse me; Lady Evelyn beckons.” He sauntered across the long room to the side of his. fair betrothed. Drummond still held his place near her. He had been talking, she listening; and her cheeks were softly flushed, and the brilliant eyes sweet and tender and the perfect lips wreathed in a thoughtful smile. ‘He has been talking of you,” she said, with the bright- est glance she had ever given him; “‘teling me how brave- ly you saved his lite.”’ | “And what of himself? On their own merits, modest men are dumb, eh? Has he told you his name was a word of terror with which mothers irightened their children into being good, as the Saracen matrons used to do with the name of i\ing Richard. Was it Richard, by the way? Has he told you he was a host in himself, the invulnerable leader of the ‘Devil's Own?’ I think of bringing out a book relating his exploits and immortalizing myself.’ He had not once glanced back at his late companion. Had he done so, the livid horror in the earl’s colorless face must have strangely startled him. He stood glaring—yes, absolutely glaring—at the eroup, seeing only that one manly face, with its rare beauty and gravely smiling mouth. If it were true! if Roderick Desmond still lived! if this man were he! The next morning he could have laughed aloud at his own folly. “T am a fool!” he said, fiercely—‘‘a driveling mono- maniac! I fancy resemblances. where resemblance there is none. I will put it to the test} by Heaven!” He start- ed up with a sudden idea. “My wife shall see this man! If Roderick Desmond were alive, old and gray and hoary, — she would still know him. Dead and in his grave, he has — still been my rival, still poisoned my life.” He walked resolutely away, and not once again during ai _ that evening did he glance in the direction where the trio ae R Sat. | aes held their place u until the $ parting hour came; sand 2 > Enchantress. ae 209 ° ns Ce = : ~ 7, ‘ vee rh ES rate ROS, cd pa naa OR Png RCO RUN naire My - U2 ; ah fay tt. ue ee wee ty a ee or Ra oak . im "4 ’ eas .