The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 354: what you’re looking at

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

CHAPTER XXV A NIGHT AT OAKLANDS © Ir was past midnight, and the old steward was just sinking into that state of dreamy repose which precedes a deeper slumber, — for he had been lying awake, thinking of the incidents in the saloon, — when all of a sudden he was startled by his door opening, and a cry of terror was nearly bursting from his lips as his looks fell upon what appeared to be the countenance of a corpse. But in an instant he recognized the Duke of Marchmont, the ghastly pallor of whose face looked ghastlier still as the light of the candle which he carried streamed upon it. He had thrown his dressing-gown over his shoulders, — thus having evidently quitted his chamber in a haste too precipitate to enable him to put it on properly. The wildest horror was in his looks, and with staggering steps he advanced into the room. Closing the door behind him, he placed the candlestick on the chest of drawers, and threw himself on a seat, his whole manner and appearance giving him the aspect of one who had just seen some hideous spectacle or passed through a phase of appalling terror. “Good heavens, my lord, what is the matter?” asked Purvis, all at once smitten with the conviction that some- thing fresh and of a very dreadful character had occurred; “‘ what is the matter, my lord? for Heaven’s sake, speak! ”’ But the duke could not give utterance to a syllable, and still he continued to stare in wildest, ghastliest horror upon the old steward, who himself was quivering throughout every nerve and fibre. “‘ My lord, for Heaven’s sake, speak! What is it? What is it? he again shudderingly asked. “‘ IT know not, it must have been a dream,” replied March- 332 CORMICLOOOLK