Penny Dreadfuls, 1916 · page 262 of 400
Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 262: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Analysis of Page 244 This is a page of running prose from the penny dreadful *Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil*. The text depicts the aftermath of a violent confrontation in a church. After a fight between characters named Troupe and a baronet, Tom discovers Troupe has survived and departed unharmed. Tom then finds a discarded ivory fan inscribed "Ellie Elliott, Marley" with Troupe's pencil sketches on it—a discovery that troubles him, as he fears Troupe may be in danger. The passage emphasizes melodramatic emotion through florid language ("warrior angel," "brave heart") typical of sensation fiction.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
244 ‘Tom ANDERSON, DarE-DEVIL and lifted Sir A‘neas, as easily as one might pick up a child. “Gang ahead, Colonel Lloyd, an’ keep the fowk back. An’ you,’ —turning in a frenzy of anxiety to Pink, — “‘you wee suck-egg Rebel!— tak t’ lantern!”’ Fury drove the blood into Pink’s ashen cheeks. * / tote a lantern? J/ You damnable old bull giraffe, you! D’ you take me for a nigger?”’ Troupe was halfway down the aisle, with the light. “Hurry!— Ill light you.” Amazement almost choked Rory. “Hae ye a bonnetfu’ | oO’ maggots 1’ your brain? If ye gang hame wi your wark, ye ll licht yoursel’ tae hell!” Troupe unbolted the door. “This fight was none of my seeking. Why should I hide myself? Come on!” Pink linked his arm in ‘Troupe’s — and the church door clanged after them. Utter stillness. To poor Tom the vast building, with its opposite poles of brilliance and blackness, felt likeatomb. He sat slumped together on the stairs, half stunned by the ordeal. “Out of the focal and foremost fire” of passion and deadly combat Troupe had come! Unscathed! “Sweating like a horse, and serene as a warrior angel, by Heaven!” It was a vision of the Un- dismayed Soul. Tom descended the stair and went up the aisle to that wax-lit arena wherein Troupe had defended his life so desperately. The baronet’s sword lay where it fell. The floor was covered with trampled jasmine, orange, and citron blossoms; and there on the tesselated marble, a pool of blood. Oh, brave heart that had never blenched! Oh, strong hand that had done its best! “God keep you, Troupe! God keep you, dear!”’ As he turned to go, he set foot on something — a morsel of a fan in gold and ivory. He remembered seeing it in Troupe’s hand. Some girl’s toy — here was her name — “Elle Elliott, Marley.” What a strange, strange chance! And here were Troupe’s pencilings, on every blade of ivory. No time for surmises. He was on fire with one anx- ety ioe TE Was he in danger of violence? Rory be- ieved it! ECOMMNEOOOKSa(e©) m