The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 107: what you’re looking at

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

90 REYNOLDS’ WORKS Let us pass over a few hours. It was evening, and in a well-furnished apartment at the principal hotel at Barcelona two persons were awaiting the arrival of a third. The table was spread fdr dinner; the lignt of the candles was reflected by a goodly display of plate, bottles of champagne were cooling in ice; it was evident that this was to be a banquet to be partaken of under no ordinary circumstances, al- though but three were to sit down to it. One of the two persons was Count Christoval, and he lay reclining upon the sofa, still much exhausted. The other was Ned Russell, who was walking to and fro in a kind of delighted impatience. every minute going to the window to see whether the chaise was approaching that was to bear Kate to his arms. He was apparelled in an entirely new suit of clothes which Don Diego had lent him, and which set off his fine form to the fullest advantage which such well-cut garments were calculated to produce. So full of Elysian animation was his countenance that whatsoever ravages imprisonment might have produced thereon were lost in that enthusiastic slow. | It was seven o’clock, and according to Count Christoval’s computation, Kate might be expected every moment. !t will be remembered that the despaten she had sent off by the second courier, and which was addressed to his lordship, contained a note for Ned Russell, telling him when she should depart from Madrid, and that she should travel as quick as possible to join him at Barcelona. Thus was it known that she could not be much longer ere she made her appear- ance. Nor wasshe. A chaise presently came dragging along the street; it stopped at the entrance of the hotel. Russell waited not to observe who alighted, but darting from the room, he precipitated himself down the stairs, and cries of joy echoed in the hall as he and his beloved Kate were clasped in each other’s arms. Oh, that was a Joyous meet- ing, — a meeting such as neither of them can ever forget for the remainder of their lives! Nearly nine years have elapsed (at the time this narrative is written) since that memorable evening, and often and often does the recollection thereof come back to them fraught with ineffable feelings; it comes back to them like a delicious harmony stealing over the ocean of the past, it comes back to them like a strain of heavenly music, and ever productive of chastening CONNIE OO KS (E@) m