Penny Blood Serial Fiction — page 339: what you’re looking at

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

‘ 322 REYNOLDS’ WORKS ‘“ Yes, dear Juliana, I have come back to you with only one hope in my heart,” and Frank gazed most adoringly, most enthusiastically upon the splendid countenance of the patrician lady. “And that hope, Frank?”’ she murmured. “ Ah! you need not tell me what it 1s, I can understand it full well; because I likewise have cherished such a hope, — the hope that our loves might be renewed.”’ “ But let me explain this hope of mine, dear Juliana,” continued the youth, now remembering the entire lesson which the Marquis of Hagledean had given him ere he left Stamford Manor. ‘“ You love me, Juliana, I know you do; the past has proved it, the present confirms it. But love has likewise a future, as well as a past and a present, and it is of this that I would speak to you.” “Proceed, my dearest Frank,’ murmured Juliana, suffering her head to droop upon his shoulder, so that his cheek rested against her polished brow, and the long curls of his hair fell upon her own massive bands. ‘‘ The music of your voice sinks deliciously into my heart. Proceed, dear Frank, I love to listen to you.’ | “ Well, then, my own Juliana,’’ he continued, entertaining not the slightest doubt as to the result of the test to which he was upon the point of putting her, and longing to hurry it over that he might give her the assurance that it was nothing but a test, to be crowned by joyous revealings on his part relative to his own position, “‘ since you will listen thus patiently, I will speak. I said that love has a future. What is to be the future of our love? I come to you, poor, unhappy, an obscure and unknown youth; my apparel denotes my condition, you yourself have already penetrated it, and you have given me your sympathy. Nay, more, you have assured me, in words as delicate as they were kind, that if I have suffered privations, it was my own fault for not applying to you, and that if I am still suffering under the cruel circumstances of the world, you will endeavour to amend them. For all this, dearest Juliana, accept my heartfelt, devoted thanks. No words are capable of ex- pressing my gratitude.”’ “Not gratitude, Frank,’ murmured Juliana, in accents laden with a sensuous languor; ‘“‘ but speak to me of love.”’ “Tt is of love, dearest, that I am about to speak,” he Ss (Eo) Eomichoo