Lady Evelyn — page 79: what you’re looking at

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

bans ine hae “het rat iY ib Fa Ait re ve thi Fipgn ines ‘e gc na ur ne 4 Wess Ages as, E x. be waa ce WN Pee. 6 a ~* oe She coe x os es Aon r = Se . iw » re 7 . $ 4 yi oe ae 3 ‘ ne ; , eee SW, vey) ee mas : edie I Pane A 3 A= toe tale tf a beat ; Py 1 ia, & 1 mt J » 7 et Rann . ehh Baten he ry he Ne Pokd ad 2 eee mqust ead th means oe Fenue Be ec “The sus- - pense, the mystery of my fate, will kill them. Oh, Mike, “my man, my brain feels half dazed with the suddenness of all. this. Think for me, act for me; tell me how I am to let them know.”’ _ They were speeding rapidly along toward the coast. . At that hour no living thing was abroad. Mike took off his cap and scratched his head in dense perplexity. _ “Sure, it’s like puttin’ yer head back in the lions’ den to wait at all; but still—arrah! write a bit of a note, and TH run up to the castle with it myself. Maybe the duck _ of the Desmonds,’ that’s stood your friend so far, will see ~ you through it; and many’s the good turn I owe ‘the ould lord. Come down to the shore, Lord Rory, and write _ your note. I'll fly up to the castle and back in a brace . of shakes.” As men hurry when life is at stake, nae hurried to the safe shelter of the shore. The coast-guard, going his ~ Jonely rounds, had to be avoided; but Peggy’ s Point—a high, wild, lonely projection, thirty feet above the sands, — with the waves churning on the black rocks below—was ye _ safe even from him. Rory had a pencil in his pocket, and a New Testament. aS took out the book and scrawled rapidly on the fly- leaf: an “T have escaped; I am safe. Before I am missed I will be out of the country. Until you hear from me _ again, farewell. 7 That was all. He folded it and gave it to the sailor. “Deliver it to my father, to Lady Inez, or my cousin Gerald, but to no one else. 1 will await your return here, _ Mike, and may God speed you!” The man darted off like a deer, and Lord Roderick P ernond, the condemned prisoner whose hours had been _ numbered, stood under the gray morning sky, fetterless and free once more. Once more the stirring sea-wind _ thrilled through every vein like the elixir ‘of life; once iore he looked over the ceaseless sea; once more he saw the unspeakable glory of the new day-dawn in the rosy east. He leaned against the tall, mossy bowlder and os “thew a long, deep breath. - “Free!” he thought. “Thank God! thank God a | a man’ s set egg eke Tis p ie never take me -omicbook . 4 E. ; Te Hy ' ats te pascry