The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 295: what you’re looking at

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

CHAPTER XXIII WOODBRIDGE It was eight o’clock in the evening when a post-chaise drove into the little village of Woodbridge, and stopped at the inn. A single traveller alighted, and this was Mr. Red- cliffe. In answer to the inquiries of the landlord, he stated that he might remain a day or two in that place, and he nodded an assent to the proposal that refreshments should be at once served up. These, however, he scarcely touched, and presently strolled forth to woo the gentle breeze of the eve- ning, and perhaps to seek some solitude where for awhile he might be alone with his own thoughts. He had certain inquiries to make in this neighbourhood, but he postponed them until the morrow, for his reflections during the day’s travelling had, as was indeed often the case with the unhappy gentleman, excited his feelings to the extremest degree of tension. His steps took him toward the churchyard. It was now a little past nine o’clock, the evening was beautifully clear, and slowly did Mr. Redcliffe pursue his way through the cemetery, contemplating the gravestones. Presently his eyes settled upon that particular one which has been so often mentioned, and which bore the inscription of ‘‘ October, 1830.’ Jonathan Carnabie’s care had recently blackened the indented letters forming this inscription, so that it was plainly visible on the gleaming white surface of the stone. Mr. Redcliffe was naturally struck by the singular brevity of this graven memorial of the buried dead, and the date too appeared to give a thrilling keenness to the memories that were floating in his mind. “Singular epitaph!’’ he said, in an audible tone. 264 CORMIECLIOOKS (E(0)