The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 367: what you’re looking at

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

336 REYNOLDS’ WORKS should arouse the household and send off for medical assist- ance. “Not for worlds,” ejaculated the duke, with strange vehemence; then he immediately added, ‘‘ You would not have me render myself ridiculous in the presence of all the servants? It is enough that I have thus found my way to your chamber. But you will not breathe a syllable of all this? You will keep it inviolably secret? Tell me, Purvis, tell me — ”’ ‘Yes, my lord; rest assured that I will do what you command. But about the dream?’’ added Purvis, hesi- tatingly, and his curiosity was poignantly excited. ‘Ah! about the dream?” repeated the duke; ‘“ you wish to know the rest?”’ and in a sort of half-bewildered manner he sank down upon the chair again. “I tell you, Purvis, that the form bent over me, — I mean, you under- stand that it appeared to do so, — and it said some words, and it breathed a name, and that name was its own, for thus did it announce itself — And the name —”’ ‘“ And the name, my lord?’”’ repeated the steward, in the low, half-hushed tone of an awe-felt suspense, as if he ex- pected to hear that it was the name of one from the grave which had thus been spoken. | ‘““The name?” said the duke, gazing in a species of vacant horror and dismay upon the old man; “ that name was — Bertram Vivian.”’ The steward started in such a way that the whole bed shook under him, and Marchmont likewise started as if that sound itself had galvanized him with a new terror. ‘Yes, it was my brother’s name,” he continued, in a low, hollow voice, ‘“‘ and therefore it must have been a dream. For if it were not, then was it a shape from the other world—”’ ‘Yes, my lord,’’ rejoined the steward, in solemn tones, “for if your brother were alive, he would not revisit the seat of his crime.”’ Marchmont looked in an appalled vacant horror around, and for upwards of a minute there was a profound silence in that room. “And what followed, my lord?” at length asked the steward, who was evidently under the influence of an awe- inspiring, superstitious terror. nn ECORMICLIOO KS (E()