Octavia's Pride; or, The Missing Witness — page 199: what you’re looking at

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

OCTAVIA’S PRIDE. 189 with Will Yarrel, had in a measure subdued. Mrs. Grey’s | virtuous indignation. But she was one of those narrow- minded devotees to the outward forms of propriety to whom any deviation is a positive crime. Her husband’s persua- sion had obtained her consent to poor Will’s presence in the house until the morning train for London, but she showed, by her cold and forbidding manner, what she called a righteous rebuke for the whole proceeding. Mr. Grey, on the contrary, was warmly interested. He met Maurice, as I have said, at the hall door, and seized him at once by the arm and drew him into the little anteroom, whispering softly, as if afraid a corps of detec- tives were at his heels: *‘Look here, Middleton, things are growing warm. A policeman has been here this evening, inquiring if any one has seen a boy of this description. He says a woman in one of the upper stories saw a man carrying such a lad running down our lane. ‘The apothecary likewise confirms the story, though, by good luck, he got your complexion wrong. He wanted to know what family I had, and I told him there was no one but my own, except some visitors, a Mr. and Mrs. Middleton. When I said that Mr. Middleton arrived in Liverpool several days ago, his curiosity concerning you ended. But they'll be here again, and I dare say are on the watch now. You'll never get that boy away without their knowing it. And Mrs. Grey is in a perfect panic lest he be taken here. Now I'll tell you what you must do. She must take to her proper clothing, and you must have a coach here, and go off boldly as Mr. and Mrs. Middleton.” ‘“* But what will she think? And how can you tell her? I haven’t allowed her to suspect I have seen through her disguise.” , “‘It is no time for scruples of delicacy. Ill tell her so myself, if you say so. But you are the right one to do it.” _ **Wouldn’t Mrs, Grey——” began Maurice, doubtfully. Gomicndoo “S a X - ¢, com 7 - ves \%