The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 306: what you’re looking at

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

COUNT AND COUNTESS OF TOLEDO 289 husband. It happened that the count was going into the village at the moment when Juliana had finished writing this letter, and he accordingly took it with him to put in the post. Days went by, they grew into weeks, and still no answer was returned. Nevertheless Juliana read in the newspapers that in the interval the Marquis and Marchioness of Villebelle had arrived in safety at Madrid, and were duly installed in the mansion of the French Embassy in that city. She fancied that her letter must have miscarried, for she thought that Constance was too generous-hearted to cherish any rancour on account of her precipitate flight from the Durands’ villa after her affair with the Viscount de Chateau- neuf. She accordingly wrote again, and the count, taking charge of the letter, promised to see that the postmaster was particular in consigning it to the mail-bag. Again did days and weeks go past, and still no response came. Then Juliana could arrive at no other conclusion than that her sister was mortally offended with her, and her pride prevented her from penning a third epistle. Christmas was now drawing near, and again were the count’s funds at a low ebb. Again therefore did he resolve upon paying another stealthy visit to his estates in Catalonia on the other side of the Pyrenean boundary. On this second occasion he remained absent for a fortnight, at the expiration of which time he returned safe and sound, and with a con- siderable sum of money. Juliana was rejoiced at the thought that her husband possessed such an honest intendant, and she more than ever longed to hasten and become the mistress of those estates which produced such ample revenues. It was on the morning after the Count de Toledo’s return that they rode out together in the phaeton. On these occasions they seldom took a domestic with them, as they preferred to be left to their own unrestrained discourse. After making a considerable circuit, they were returning through the village, when a sudden ejaculation, as if of surprised recog- nition, reached their ears. Glancing simultaneously in the direction whence it came, they perceived a wretched-looking man, wrapped in the rags of beggary, but such tatters as he did wear indicating a denizen of the Catalan wilds on the other side of the Pyrenees. “Ah,” eried the Count de Toledo, “I know the poor man! Heisa labourer of my own estate — or, rather, dearest CONnNIEOOOKS (f(0)