Penny Dreadfuls, 1916 · page 98 of 400
Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 98: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page 82 of "Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil" This is a page of running prose from a Victorian penny dreadful serial. The passage depicts a dramatic domestic confrontation: Tom introduces a British officer he believes to be Colonel Tarleton to his grandmother, Mrs. Anderson, in what appears to be a Rebel (American) household during wartime. Mrs. Anderson is horrified and accuses the man of treason, but Tom then reveals that while the officer *called himself* "Tarleton" in delirium, they only referred to him as "the Colonel"—suggesting possible mistaken identity. The text emphasizes melodramatic emotion: fainting, shock, patriotic outrage, and dramatic revelations.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
82 Tom AnpERSON, Dare-DEVIL But hereupon Tom interposed, choking under the strain of apprehension and excitement. “Madam, my grandmother, I have the honor to pre- sent to you Colonel Tarleton, of His Majesty's Dragoons.” “Tarleton!” she faltered, ‘‘ Tarleton ?’’ and, the blood clean gone from her lips, shaking like one in a palsy, she towered before him. “ How dare you expose your life here? You! Bloody miscreant, in a Rebel home!” A strange bewilderment fell upon the man. “Madam, I don’t understand you —” “How dare your” “Listen,” he commanded. “But for this Rebel house- hold I should be dead and gone. To them I owe my life, and —”’ “What!” —she quailed now. “Treason! Conspiracy! Under my roof! I ought to have died — before — I found —it—out—’” She fainted, and would have fallen to the floor, but the Englishman caught her in his arms. In- stantly her eyes reopened; when they rested on a sleeve of claret-colored velvet and wrist-rufle of Mechlin, no un- familiar objects, her senses still confused, she murmured, “Troupe! Is it you?” “Tt is not Troupe. Nor is it — Tarleton!”’ Mrs. Anderson started up. Though bewildered by the shock of the revelation through which she had just passed, she struggled to her feet. The strong-willed woman tri- umphed over years, infirmities, agitation. It was a Riche- lieu-like transformation. She stood straight and tall; fiercely American. “*God save me from the tender mercies of the enemy of my country.” “Madam, forgive me for the distress I’ve caused you. I am not Colonel Tarleton —”’ “What, sir? My grandson confessed your name and rank. here are no liars among us!” Tom burst forth, in strong excitement: ‘Hold on — everybody! In the ravings of delirium this British Nice called himself ‘Tarleton.’ We believed him to be Tarle- ton. But we called him ‘the Colonel,’ — nothing else, — \ Eomicbooks: Go m