Penny Dreadfuls, 1916 · page 242 of 400
Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 242: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# This Page This is a **page of running prose** from the body of a Victorian penny dreadful novel. Chapter XXV, titled "Pink," sets the scene for an eventful night in Charleston during what appears to be the American Revolution (references to Royalists, Loyalists, and an American officer suggest this setting). The narrator describes multiple dramatic incidents occurring that evening: Lady Savage's ball, the mysterious assassination of Captain Valentine Paris, a duel between Sir Æneas McIntosh and an American officer, and an unspecified climactic event. The text then backtracks in time to follow Marion's escape from a house on Tradd Street, establishing the chronology of the night's events.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
CHAPTER XXV “PINK” CHARLESTON seethed with sensations that night. People would have told you that Lady Savage’s ball to my Lord Rawdon was no small event; and, indeed, by nine o’clock all the Royalists and Loyalists of fashion in the Capital were getting into their coaches, or otherwise preparing to be off to Her Ladyship’s. Anxiety to reach the ballroom by ten o’clock it was that had set Colonel Lloyd a-swearing while he waited for Sir Aineas at the gateway of the acacia avenue. There was, then, the ferment over the rout. There was the projected capture of Marion, albeit this was a rigidly guarded secret at the Commandant’s head- quarters. There was the assassination of Captain Valentine Paris, officer of His Mayesty’s service, Loyalist, and man-of- fashion. His violent death was a shock to the Capital. The manner of his fordoing was still mystery, his assailant still undiscovered. This tremendous excitement was succeeded by the duel between Sir A‘neas McIntosh and an American officer, plunging the city in gloom and charging the atmosphere with tragedy and passion. And finally, when the night was almost over, came a culmination which wrought upon even my Lord Rawdon’s nerves. In order that we may command the whole stage, and keep track of certain actors in the drama of that eventful night, we will go back to the hour when Marion fled from the house in Tradd Street. It was dusk when Tom left Rory’s lodgings to look for Marion, though not much after four o'clock. It was pitch-dark when Marion set foot in the street, before the stroke of five. While Tom, in the ECONMMUICOOOKS.6© m