Lady Evelyn — page 234: what you’re looking at

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

y dl - 4 4 hs ih 7 ’ + +? . A 4 els as P 7 ee ; les ie lL ae ‘ £ pat wa Eas wn? ~s & ye TAN re We Be, 1 A me RA aD | ‘ww a >) ) 7 In the Tents of the Gypsies. 207 of the first June morning was rosy in the eastern sky, when he awoke from that deadly swoon or stupor. He lay in the best chamber of the Kittle inn, whither Drummond had seen him conveyed, and two strange faces bent over him—the village doctor and the rector. The dull eyes wandered from face to face; memory and intelli- gence came slowly back. He was in little pain now. Death, the merciful, was close at hand. “Where is her’ he asked in a husky whisper. “Whom, my poor fellow?” the rector said, drawing nearer. “Lord Roderick. He has been dead twenty years, but I saw him and heard him last night.” The rector glanced at the doctor. “Is his mind wandering?” he asked. “Must be,” the physician responded; “‘although he looks as if his mind were clear. There is no such person, my man,’ he said; “the gypsies sent you here. You are dying—do you know it? This gentleman is a clergyman —if you have anything to say to him, best say it at once. Your hours on earth are few.” He took his hat and left the room as he spoke. In the little inn-yard he found Colonel Drummond pacing to and fro. “Welle” he asked. ‘He has recovered from his long semi-trance, and spo- ken. His mind seems wandering, though; he asked for some Lord Roderick. My duties call me away—I can be of no use—he will not live two hours. Mr. Hall is with him. If you know him, and have anything to say to the poor wretch, colonel, best see him and say it at once.”’ The doctor hurried away—the colonel entered the house. As he went soitly into the room of death, the clergyman met him on the threshold with a ve orave face. “He seems in great mental anguish and remorse,” he said in a whisper. “‘He has a confession to make, he says, and cannot die with it upon his soul. Twenty years ago he committed—good heavens!—a horrible murder, for which an innocent man suffered through his perjury. I am a magistrate, as you know, and must take his dying deposition. Will you stay in the room? In all my cler-. ¥. comicbooks.co