The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 114: what you’re looking at

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

THE SHADY AVENUE 91 flung their terrified looks around. Those looks encountered the duke, who was just emerging from a shady avenue. Emerging! no, he was rushing on with the mad fury of the wild beast whose cry his own had resembled, and Eliza, with a half-stifled moan of soul-crushed agony, dropped senseless upon the ground. All in an instant the spectacle of the rapidly advancing duke vanished from Bertram’s gaze; he beheld only the inanimate form of the beloved Eliza. He raised her in his arms; kneeling upon the ground, he supported her against his breast. He besought her in passionate accents to open her eyes and to look upon him. ‘‘ Leave her, sir,’’ thundered the voice of the duke; “‘ leave her, sir. Begone — depart hence, execrable villain that you are.”’ ‘‘ Hear me, uncle, hear me, I conjure you!’’ exclaimed Vivian, a prey to such wild and torturing feelings as no pen can describe. ‘‘ If not for my sake, at least for hers — ”’ ‘“‘ Begone, sir,’ again thundered forth the duke, and rush- ing forward, he violently tore the still inanimate form of his wife from Bertram’s arms. At this instant it happened that two of the female servants, having been to some other part of the grounds, appeared upon the spot, to which they were attracted by the fierce and thundering ejaculations of their ducal master. They were astounded at what they beheld, — that master tearing away his wife from the arms of Bertram Vivian, the duchess insensible, Bertram himself pale and quivering with excite- ment. “‘ Bear your mistress to the house,’ said the duke, sternly, ‘and consign her to the care of her maids.”’ The two female domestics hastened to obey the instruc- tions thus given them, and as they bore away the inanimate form of Eliza, the duke turned to follow. “ Uncle, for God’s sake hear me!” cried Bertram, in a voice of most imploring agony, as he caught the duke by the arm. “Not a word, sir, not a single word,” vociferated the furious husband, and in his mad rage he struck his nephew a violent blow upon the temple. The young man’s countenance became crimson, turning all in a moment from the whiteness of a sheet to the hue of a peony, and his first impulse was to avenge the blow. But com (-) LOOKS (EO)