The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 172: what you’re looking at

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

THE MASQUERADE DRESS 155 Having thus spoken, Lady Saxondale turned away, beck- oning Edmund and Adelaide to follow her, and she began ascending the staircase. Her son did at once accompany her; but his wife lingered in the hall, and as the domestics were moving away in company with the peasant, who had rolled up the dress, and whom they were conducting to their own premises to give him some refreshments, Adelaide beck- oned Lucilla toward her. “ What dreadful murder was this, my girl,’”’ she inquired, “to which allusion has been made? I never heard of it before, and I know that my lord and her ladyship will give me no particulars, for fear of frightening me.”’ “Ah, my lady,” responded Lucilla, naturally supposing that she was thus questioned through mere ordinary curi- osity on the part of Adelaide, ‘‘it was indeed a shocking thing. Let mesee? It happened four or five months back — To be sure! Lady Macdonald and Lady Florina Staunton were staying at the castle— Yes, and Lord Harold, too —”’ “Ah! Lord Harold Staunton was staying here at the time, was he?” | “Yes, my lady. I recollect he was ill in bed; he had been thrown from one of Mr. Hawkshaw’s horses, which he would persist in riding. It was very mad of his lordship, you know, when he was implored not to do it, for the horse was a very spirited one — ”’ “Well, but about this dreadful tragedy?” said Adelaide. “ Dreadful indeed, my lady! The victims were an opera dancer and her servant. The dancer’s name was Madem- oiselle d’Alembert, but if I recollect right, her real one was Emily Archer, and she was a splendid creature, as I have heard say. Well, my lady, they were both found shot dead on the bank of the river, — one through the brain, the other through the heart.”’ _ “ And was this in the middle of the night?” inquired Adelaide. “ Oh, no, not in the middle of the night. About ten o’clock, as near as I can recollect.”’ “ And where were they going? ” “ Ah, that nobody knows,” responded Lucilla. ‘‘ It was thought at the time — ”’ But here she stopped short, perceiving the immense error CONNIE DOOKS (F@)