The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 359: what you’re looking at

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

342 THE COURT OF LONDON = What as any < quickly demanded the countess. Then, as she also caught sight of the label, she said, ‘‘ Here, give ittome. It is Satan himself who has put itin my way. Iam tired of lite—I am frightened to live. The guillotine — my God! The guillotine — oh, no, no!” And seizing the bottle from Lady Prescott’s hand, the Countess of Curzon apphed it to her lips. ‘Ah! leave enough for me also,” cried Lady Prescott, snatching the phial from her; but for a moment she stood transfixed with horror as she beheld the Countess of Curzon sink suddenly back in her chair and with one deep groan give up the ghost, for the poison was rapid and fatal in its effects as the dart of the angel of death. All imaginable horrors, ten thousand times more fearful than any which had yet seized on the wretched Lady Pres- cott, now crowded in upon her. Death in every shape seemed to be within that house, — death in the dissecting- room, death now in this gloomy parlour, before her eyes and in her imagination, death out-of-doors, in the middle of the great square of Geneva, and on the scaffold of the guillotine. Oh, the guillotine — heavens! what a thrill of ice-lke agony did the idea, as it again flashed to her mind, send through her entire form, so that maddened, frenzied, driven wild with the pressure of intolerable thoughts, the unhappy lady raised the phial to her lips and poured the residue of its contents down her throat. The effect was blasting as a flash of lightning. Not more quickly does the thunderstroke of apoplexy perform its tremendous work — and down she fell, a corpse. Meantime the hysterical cries which still came thrilling from Agatha’s lips and went penetrating through the entire house reached the ears of the Countess of Curzon’s lady’s- maid, who slept on an upper story. This was none other than Gertrude, the handsome and wily Gertrude, who is already so well known to our readers. Terrified and dismayed at those sounds of female anguish which struck ery aiter cry, and with shriek following shriek, in quick succession upon her ears, she leaped forth from her couch, hastily threw on some clothing, and descended the stairs. Guided by the cries, she came down as far as the hall, and halting near the dining- room door, listened to what was taking place within.- She heard Agatha’s unconscious and hysterical confessions, — EORMICLIOO KS (E(0) m