Penny Blood Serial Fiction — page 251: what you’re looking at

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

234 REYNOLDS’ WORKS and the marquis strained his eyes to penetrate also through the thick folds of the veil, but the attempt was vain, he could not catch the slightest glimpse of the countenance thus hidden. She proceeded on toward the lower part of the garden, and Lord Eagledean continued his way to the gate which afforded admittance to the grounds. He opened it, he entered the garden, and then he hesitated whether to go and accost that lady, or whether to advance up to the house at once and make the usual inquiry which a visitor would put. At that moment a domestic, in a plain, dark livery, appeared upon the steps. He was an old man, and one who might at once be set down as being a faithful dependent of long standing in his present service. The marquis accosted him, and said, “‘ I wish to see Lady Ever- ton; is that her ladyship walking yonder in the garden? ”’ ‘“‘ Tt is, sir,’ responded the old servant, ‘“* but her ladyship receives no visitors. All matters of business must be con- ducted through Mrs. Jameson.” “Ah!” ejaculated Lord Eagledean, for he remembered that this was the friendly housekeeper at Everton Park, who had been admitted into the confidence of her mistress in respect to the birth of the two children. ‘“ But I have some very particular intelligence to communicate.” ‘““ Tf so, sir,’ observed the footman, “ there will be no harm in your introducing yourself to her ladyship; she can but refer you, if necessary, to Mrs. Jameson.”’ The old man spoke courteously, even benevolently, and the Marquis of Eagledean, thus encouraged, was about to hasten away toward the extremity of the garden, when it suddenly occurred to him that if Alexandrina should chance to recognize him at once, a scene might possibly ensue which she would afterward deeply regret and wish to have been avoided. He accordingly turned back again toward the footman, saying, “ All things considered, it would perhaps be better that I should see Mrs. Jameson first.”’ The domestic bowed, and led the way through a hall, up a staircase, to a room where an old woman with hair as white as snow was seated, occupied with her knitting. She was dressed in black, and in her look benevolence was mingled with sadness. She was not so much altered but that the marquis would have recognized her, even if he had not been informed who she was. Gomichoo cS (E(0) m