Roxy Hastings — page 220: what you’re looking at

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

ROXY HASTINGS. 211 “T don’t know. A gold mine, I believe, that the old gentleman had an interest in, and which has begun to yield since his death. That’s the story, but Edgar says they are very close about it—Charles and Alfred both.” ‘‘Are they both so rich ?” “Yes, or if not we don’t know who has the most. I guess it’s a joint affair, so Edgar thinks. Are you a friend of the family ?” “No, I can searcely look very much pleased.” ‘Oh, I did not mean that. I certainly wish them well, but I have not the right to call them my friends, as I have never even seen any of them—but one.” “And which is that?” Mrs. Welles asked, quickly. _ Her visitor hesitated—and then replied, “ Mr. Alfred Lee.” “Alf! Oh, yes, a noble fellow,” she rattled on, without seeming to take breath, “was in the army—taken prisoner —sent to Richmond—sentenced to death, and escaped in the most wonderful manner; but perhaps you have heard of this.” ss Yes. 99 “Then he was engaged to a most beautiful and accom- plished young lady—father a Turk, mother a Jezebel—and they broke off the match and tried to force her to marry an old yellow miser, old enough to be her grandfather. Girl faithful; wouldn’t do it—ran away and drowned herself. But perhaps you’ve heard that, too.” Mrs. Holden controlled her emotion, and said she had heard the story in a modified form. ‘‘Modified! Oh, it was ten times worse, only I have not time to tell you—and poor Alfred, it nearly killed him, Edgar says. He’s traveled and everything—and he was quite a shadow, but he’s better now, and is consoling him- self with a young lady from Philadelphia—the sweetest creature of alady you ever did see, only seventeen, and they are to be married next fall.” Mrs. Holden averted her face to hide the emotion which she knew it must exhibit, for the words of the garrulous woman were like so many daggers to her poor tortured heart. “Have you seen this lady?” she asked, with assumed indifference. But Mrs. Welles was too intent on telling her story to discover any emotion that was vailed, however imper; — fectly. “Yes, she’s here now—at the Lees’, I mean—on her second visit; was here last fall when they lived in this EComichoo cS (S(0)