Penny Dreadfuls, 1888 · page 169 of 284
Octavia's Pride; or, The Missing Witness — page 169: what you’re looking at
A restored page from Penny Dreadfuls, 1888. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
ar re et F ok pa io? “<a i . EP BS he FE BE ME OTA OT Lh AEE? UE en GUL NOL REET RY Sent Dm e «Peete en = J (od : es. « aH) ; US ai ve “a iP 5 Ae fs ie PERN ee FLARE Re eR SAY ban JG ENSUE LOSE meen ets Janie a Ape e ey > 7 fie fe i by eres Fis a o- ‘; fa ad. fey pat oh gat bob! arta, Dont Se peat Ae ROT a aa Tar ren an het Phat - ° ° feu ois arty iF : i. 7s Seis” 496 F ot ae os can eo Se Sie Olt SOV Oe (tg STE OE ton3 ~AL ay rig! 2 i BS y ari? ay PT Pero hal: pee 5° : “gf Pans *, p 3 i} . S| ie nT ~% fie : ae tA 4 a 24 Teper, 2 fos) at acs é ved | ry p Rin A © oh Oey rrr © ‘ ide ‘tt eet what Fes * mn) i zy Re 3, wy a iis fie tg fe rit Fu PST ti EE HL fet any Ze, CBOE yee bi Pe’ + - ; Fa) ire tony : Wi rs ‘ ; S atte 4 * 4 > ‘7 \ 7 ’ ts ise hi TH : Dh f. . : ; , * ye ; \ “~*~ ve 4 ei a . Ay - ‘ Te. : 1 2 . betel Ad be! OCTAVIA'S PRIDE beh 159 dreary wintez scene grows beautiful and warm beneath re- turning sunshine. | Beyond them in the state-room, outside the partition which divides the two cabins, once or twice there was a rustle, but neither of the preoccupied talkers heeded it. Jane presently bent down and said, gently, as she booked into the brown ici which were beaming loving joy and trust: ‘¢ And now you shall tell your story, and I will do my best to help you. And I will show you the box which contains the precious legacy I am to carry to England. I keep it there on the shelf above my state-room door. And what am I to call you when I talk the foolish loving talk for which my tongue already aches?” ‘*What you please, dear friend: but I have a claim to that by which you have known me. My true name is Wil- 'hemine,” answered Will Yarrel. Behind the partition, crouching close against the state- room side, was a greedy ear, a glittering, triumphant eye. The old man, with the white hair and basilisk eye, rubbed his hands gleefully, and said to himself: *‘ Ho! ho! Fate, that has thrown me so often, sets me again upon my feet. Ihave found the fair Wilhemine, and I will learn what the last bequest of Arthur Morley to a certain noble English lady may contain.” ‘Ho! ho!” repeated Mathew Merle. CHAPTER XVII. TRAPPED. Maurice Middleton had kept his word to his father, and was searching over the great town to find some glimpse or trace of Mathew Merle. cComicboo is A, uk