Penny Dreadfuls, 1888 · page 184 of 284
Octavia's Pride; or, The Missing Witness — page 184: what you’re looking at
A restored page from Penny Dreadfuls, 1888. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
bos ns i Ph tee ge es PARSON) Ae EN os “ii ra hy ; oe EE i FY ci tity ths Ua r Pf fs) ye a ges 5 * om. ‘\ ati Ned a Oi alsa! an ack ANS, = i a og SoM 174 OCTAVIA'S PRIDE. with a listless smile. ‘‘It must be a tradeswoman of some sort.” ) : ‘“Don’t delay your return!” called merry voices miter her. ‘The smile with which she had left the drawing-room was still on her face, as Lady Mary entered the reception- room. ra A plainly dressed, grave-eyed, and just now marbly pale woman stood in the center of the room waiting for her. -They were a contrast, striking and suggestive, had any one been there to have seen them, those two, Lady Mary, so fair, and delicate, and frail, in her dainty garments, her gemmed hands, her noble looks of acristocratic delicacy and helplessness, and Jane West, still, graye, quiet, but with a world of energy, and strength, and resolution on the grave lips, the calm eyes, the firm hands. Struck somehow by the deep passion held down reso- Iutely, which her face and attitude bespoke, Lady Mary bowed courteously, and said, gently waving her thin, white hand toward a chair. | ‘«< Be seated, please. You asked to seeme. I am Lady Mary Falkner.” ‘Thank you, I do not care to sit,” answered Jane, not saying what she thought—that no power should compel her to sit in friendliness by the side of the woman who had terribly wronged her dead master. ‘‘I came to you in con- sequence of Doctor Morley’s request. I have just arrived from Australia. I have pepnEne to you a packet he kept sacredly and left to my charge.” , Oh! oh!” gasped the noble lady, dropping into a chair, ¢ white as a ghost and shivering from head to foot. Jane had no pity for her. On the contrary, her heart was full of deadly anger and fierce indignation. ‘This woman—this woman in her French silks, with her dia- — monds and daintiness—oh, what a piercing thorn had her : : ? Lie » ee a : ; e y ad 4 a : 7 : ' % : . Oe ea 5: i / comicbooks co