The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 281: what you’re looking at

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

264 REYNOLDS’ WORKS the nurse who was at first engaged to watch the invalid had within the last few days been herself very ill, and had returned to her own residence, which was at a little distance; but Angela having entertained the hope that the woman would return shortly and resume her duties, had not con- sidered it necessary to put another in her place. Thus the absence of the nurse — which was duly reported by the old gardener — had been deemed by the conspirators one of the favourable circumstances for the execution of their plot at that particular time. Now, however, Angela missed the nurse much, for she herself was exhausted by the mental and physical excitement she had undergone; yet neither the fortitude nor the generous spirit of the young lady failed, and believing herself better capable than the servants of keeping the requisite vigil by the couch of Madge Somers, she resolved to adopt this course. It had been with consid- erable reluctance that William Deveril consented to her thus wearying herself by sitting up with the invalid, and he only desisted from remonstrance on receiving the assurance that another nurse should be procured early in the morning, in case the one who was formerly engaged continued too much indisposed to resume her duties. But our hero, the Marquis of Eagledean, and Francis Paton had not been many minutes in their respective cham- bers when Angela called forth to them, in an affrighted voice, from the invalid’s room, and they quickly hurried thither. A terrible change had suddenly taken place in Madge Somers; it was evident that she was dying. Francis sped off to fetch the medical attendant. One of the female domestics was summoned to assist Angela in doing all that possibly could be done for the unfortunate woman in the extremity to which she was brought, but human succour was unavailing, consciousness had abandoned her, the glaze of death came over her eyes, the ominous rattle in the throat commenced, and a few minutes after the return of Francis Paton with the medical man, she breathed her last. — Thus did she perish. Not another syllable beyond the few explanations already recorded fell from her lips, and the circumstances so nearly and intimately relating to William Deveril’s earliest years of existence were left still involved in a mystery which seemed to be impenetrable. CONNIE DOOKS (E(0)