The Mysteries of London; or, Revelations of the British Metropolis — page 270: what you’re looking at

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

268 MYSTERIES each other. I had not strength enough to answer him. The man he pointed out to me, was—but you must know him, Brian. I know him, madam, replied Lancaster, in breathless agitation ; but, for mercey’s sake, con- tinue. He both horrified and alarmed me, Brian. I clasped my hands, and looked at my father, im- ploringly. Ah, cried he, frowning, we are, I see, playing at cross purposes. Of whom were you speaking, then, Susannah? I was speaking of Brian de Lancaster, sir. My father burst into a mocking and noisy laugh. The brother of the earl! exclaimed he, upon my honour, that would be an excellent joke! a capital joke! Come, now, you must forget this folly, and prepare yourself to receive the Prince Demetrius Tolstoy, the ambassador from Russia. And what can that man want of me? I asked angrily. What you want of the honourable Brian de Lancaster, replied he; moreover, he will explain that 10 you himself. I do not wish to see him, sir, I cried— I-will not see him. You shall see him, Miss Susannah. I suffered dreadfully, Brian, and I felt my strength abandoning me; nevertheless, I again resolutely answered: No, sir, I will not re- eeive him. Ishmael seized my arm, and pressed it so strongly, that bis iron fingers were imprint~— ed in my flesh. You are mine! he said, in a voice — almost choked with rage—you are mine, cnly!— ‘Tam your master—I might kill you! do you hear — me? Brian involuntarily started from his seat, and placed his hands upon his palpitating chests wh eP 4: eas MEX Gomicbooks-com t toy = aa re Fa 4