Lady Evelyn — page 233: what you’re looking at

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

- res - ‘ ~~ * ‘\, i ae.” | ane Fay : a ¥- a "be 226 | Be the Tents of ie Se “There is a low inn in the town where he thinks ‘Hey will let him lie. He has spent all his earnings there, and they knew him in better days. He was once rich, he says, and a lawyer.” “And fallen so low! What is his name?” “That we do not know. Ask himself—he can speak aud may tell you.’ . Drummond. bent over him. The dulled eyes looked straight up at the starry sky with a blank, piteous misery! very dreadful to see. But it was not that misery that made Drummond recoil, that drove the blood from his face, and stilled the very beating of his heart; for, be- erimed and haggard, and aged, and ehastly, through rags and filth, he knew him still—-the man he had left America to find—the man who had sworn his life away—the man who had murdered fair Kathleen—William Morgan! Yes, William Morgan! . He stood for a moment or two, dumb with his great surprise, staring blankly down at that drawn, corpse-like face. The keen black eyes of the young gypsy woman watched him with brilliant intelligence. “You recognize him,’ she said, coolly. “You have known him in days gone by?” Her words aroused him. At last! at last! the ven- geance he had come to. seek, the vengeance he had re- signed, was here at his hand. ‘The blood flushed darkly into his face, then receded, leaving him ashen wre, with the might of a great at tation. “You know him!” Redempta repeated; “but he has hot found a friend.” ’ He has,” the soldier said, sternly; “the dying and the dead have no enemies. Morgan!’’ he bent over him, and uttered the name in his ear. fee Who. calls ?”’ The wounded man started and glared around in affright. ‘Morgan? that’s my name. Who knows me here>” His eyes fixed full upon that brave, gallant face bend- ing above him, with the silvery moon-rays bright upon it. An awful horror crossed his own—there was a chok- ing, gurgling cry—And the conscience-stricken wretch fell backward in a death-like faint. 3 _The short summer night had worn away, and the dawn omicbooks.co a ~~ Fs ae Pe Ss