Lady Evelyn — page 76: what you’re looking at

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

oe > ~ ea. ‘ + = ?*' 2G i Pt = . ; fs - ' vic he: pityiny arms bey he cole, a never again, Vibes though he suffered a thousand deaths, could he suffer ABS tee hie did in that hour. | But the sharpness even of that pang had passed. Death Was sO very near—a cruel and shameful death—and, seen in its light, earth, its joys and its sorrows, faded dimly away, and a great calm fell. It is easy, after all, to face the inevitable; hope is at an end—there is no aiterna-_ : tive—we sit down resigned. | His thoughts drifted away to Kathleen. The mystery that shrouded her fate had been the great trouble of his life during those dreary months gone by. Who was Kathleen’s murderer ? : “She never committed suicide,” he thought, “my brave, good little girl! She has been foully murdered, and lies in her grave unavenged! Oh, that I were free to seek — (7? her murderer over the world! His hand clenched, and his eyes flashed with all their on old fire. The bitterest remorse he had ever felt in his life he had felt for lost Kathleen. She had. loved him so dearly—she had given him up so bravely, so generously— she had sacrificed herself so nobly for her ruined father’s sake. And this was the reward of her womanly martyr- dom! | ‘Better this, poor child,” Rory thought, bitterly, “than the living death in store for her as the wife of that brute, Morgan! She has gone back to heaven untainted; as his wife, her life would have been hell on earth!” He threw himself on his bed presently—not to sleep— ~ to watch the rays of silvery light stream through the iron bars. What tales it whispered—cruel tales—of the bold Wicklow Mountains, all flooded with its crystal gleam— of the waving heather—of the fetterless eagle, soaring up to meet the rising sun—of the purple midnight sea, sleep- ing under the purple, starry sky—of his daring “Nora Créina,” dancing like a thing of life on the boundless waves—of hoary old Clontarf. where the Desmonds had reigned time out of mind, and where every moss-grown stone and ivied turret were dear to him as living things. “And Gerald will reign there now,’ he thought, drearily, “Gerald will be Earl of Clontarf when they lay es my poor father beneath the old chancel. And he will re- Ne pECEN bis LOS JOR UNES, of the eons by a wealthy ) iG “e- A y L.3 eee. € , . ’ “ 2 - = ~. ae , re hm, Th ’ - : ae re P 2 — a ck ” 7 Se ge tae a? Olt £ a “Sh Saree at: . tt Te » & ~ aad . ee : 2 ‘ r oes ee Oat re be 1’ Mea to Dp ot ae =e a >. de ee ee athens .& at ~ ap? a i “oe ~ oe Ps 1d A ee ee tie *. a >