The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 173: what you’re looking at

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

150 REYNOLDS’ WORKS entirely on Christian’s behalf, for he himself was by no means sorry to remain a little longer in the house, in the almost desperate hope that something would yet transpire in his favour. The butler and another upper-servant speedily made their appearance, and Sir John Steward, still in a towering rage, exclaimed with passionate vehemence, ‘*T want you to witness a deed — a deed which my lawyer will now have the kindness to read over — a deed —a deed — But go on, Mr. Andrews!’ added the baronet, with an oath. The lawyer saw that any further remonstrance would be unavailing, and though after his journey from London, he would much sooner have sat down to a good supper, and then betaken himself to bed, he was nevertheless constrained through fear of displeasing the baronet to commence the reading of the document. The butler and his fellow servant listened with a sort of vacant bewilderment to the technical phrases, the endless circumlocutions, and the labyrinthine language of the deed; the baronet sat with an expression of grim gloating triumph upon his countenance; Edgar Beverley was deliberating in his own mind what plan he could possibly adopt for the rescue of Laura, and so far from listening to the language of the document which was being read, he had no other sensation with regard to it than a continuous droning sound flowing upon his ear. At length, at the expiration of about twenty minutes, Mr. Andrews ceased, and Sir John Steward, greedily snatching up a pen, exclaimed, ‘‘ Now — now I will do that which is the first step toward cutting you, Edgar, off for ever, and then shall follow the signature of my will. You have got that deed also, Mr. Andrews, eh? ” Scarcely had the attorney answered the question in the affirmative, when the door was burst open, and Laura rushed into the room. The poor girl was like one demented; her hair was floating all dishevelled over her shoulders, her apparel was in disorder, it was even torn in two or three places; in a word, her whole appearance indicated the desperate struggle which she had made to escape from her sister and the negress. And Mrs. Oxenden herself showed signs of her frenzied efforts to hold the persecuted girl back, for she came rushing in with her own hair all disarranged, her toilet in disorder, and with fury flashing from her large dark eyes. All was confusion in a moment; the horrible ECORNICLIOOKS (E(0)