A Queer Race: The Story of a Strange People — page 160: what you’re looking at

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

A QUEER RACE. 157 ‘¢An anonymous letter! Where is it?” i ‘* Here!” taking it from my pocket and handing it to er. She read and reread the letter with knitted brows sev- eral times, her face growing darker with every perusal. Then she struck the paper with her hand and sprung ex- citedly to her feet. “‘] know not who wrote this letter,” she exclaimed; ‘‘the handwriting is disguised; nevertheless, I will find out. Sybil shall tell me. But this I know: the hand which wrote it is the same that cut the Diana adrift. It is a vile plot. They—I say they, for there may be more than one--they saw that in you [ had found a newfriend, a friend whom I could trust; and they wanted to get rid of you, to frighten you away, before trying to get rid of me. ‘There is but one man in the country who is capa- ble of contriving such a piot, and he isthe only man who would profit by its success—my cousin Amyas. It is more serious than I thought. Depend upon it, he will not wait for the verification of my death before proclaim- ing himself protector. No crisis so grave has occurred since Denzil Fane founded the commonwealth, whose ruler I am, and whose ruler, please God, I will remain. But Iam only a woman. I shall want counsel and help. You will stand by me, Mr. Erle—-you will be my friend?” These words, delivered with much fire and animation, moved me strangely. I took her hand and kissed it, and before I knew what I was saying I had protested that I would stand by her to the death. ‘*T know you will,” she said, smiJing; ‘‘ and afterward —when the danger is past—you will find that Queen Mab can be grateful; anything in her power—you have only to ask.” ‘¢ Shall I ask her about going away?” I thought. ‘‘I shall never have a better chance.” But before I could make up my mind Buttercup (who had been lying down in one of the cabins) came into the saloon, and the op- portunity was lost. 9 ‘Poor boy!” exclaimed Mab, compassionately, ‘‘ you — look very hungry; sit down and eat something.” Buttercup required no second asking, and having a good deal of leeway to make up, he devoured nearly everything before him. He was a tall lad of fourteen, a (E(0) mm C JOO cS (ele) Le