The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 170: what you’re looking at

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

CHAPTER XIV NEWGATE Ir was about three o’clock in the afternoon as a beautiful girl, seventeen years of age, and neatly though plainly dressed, reached the visitors’ gate at Newgate. Her coun- tenance was pale as marble, her eyes were somewhat red with weeping, and the nervous quivering of her lips showed how strong and painful were the efforts which she made to crush and stifle the grief that was swelling so agonizingly in her bosom. Her slight form was modelled to the most eraceful symmetry; innocence shed its soft halo even upon her profoundly mournful looks; her retiring, timid, and bashful manner unmistakably denoted the purity of her mind. Ascending the steps leading to the gate, or half-door, surmounted with its bristling fringe of iron spikes, her looks plunged affrightedly and recoilingly into the dark gloomy vestibule within; and the next moment a turnkey looked over the well-guarded barrier. “ What is it, young ’oman?”’ he said, in a short, surly tone, for he was discussing his dinner and a pot of porter at the moment of her arrival. “| believe —I am afraid,’ she answered, tremulously and timidly, “that a young gentleman named Theodore Varian has been brought hither this forenoon.”’ ‘“ We’ve no young genelmen here, miss,’ said the turnkey, eruffly. ‘ A young man has been Seen in this mornin’, committed by the lord mayor for trial.” “May I see him?” asked the girl, the es, which formed the request seeming as if they issued from a breaking heart. ‘‘ He is my brother,” and she burst into tears. “Well, I’m sorry to be obleeged to refuse you, my dear,” 163 CONNICLOO© Ss (C(O)