Pulp Fiction, 1865 · page 94 of 400
The Argosy — page 94: what you’re looking at
A restored page from Pulp Fiction, 1865. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Begeee. ste ROG OS Y: AUGUST, 17881. COURT NETHERLEIGH. BY MRS. HENRY WOOD, AUTHOR OF “EAST LYNNE.” nL >t CHAPTER XXII. A DISAGREEABLE EXPEDITION. T was Monday morning. Charles Cleveland sat on his iron bed- stead, in his dreary cell in Newgate: of which cell he had become heartily tired by this time: chewing there in solitude the cud of his reflections, which came crowding one upon another. None of them were agreeable, as may be imagined, but pressing itself upon him more keenly than all, was the sensation of deep, dark disappoint- ment. Above the discomfort of his present position, above the sense of shame endured, above the dread of the hard, degrading life that loomed for him in the future, he felt the neglect of Lady Adela. She, for whom he was bearing all the misery and disgrace in this dreadful dungeon, had never, by letter or by message, sought to con- vey aray of sympathy to cheer him. The neglect, the indifference, may have been unavoidable, but it told not the less bitterly on the spirit of the prisoner. A noise at his cell door. The heavy key was turning in the lock, and the prisoner looked up eagerly—a visit was such a break in his dreary day. Two ladies were entering, and his heart beat wildly— wildly ; for in the form of one he discerned some resemblance to Lady Adela’s. Had she come to see him! and he had been so un- gratefully blaming her! But the lady raised her veil, and he was re- called to his sober senses. It was only Grace Chenevix. “So, Charles, an awful scrape you have brought yourself into, through your flirting nonsense with Adela!” began the Countess of Acorn, as she followed her daughter in. “Now, mamma, dear mamma,” implored Grace, in a whisper, “ if you interfere, you will ruin all.” ‘Ruin all! much obliged to you, Grace! I think he has ruined himself,” retorted the Countess, 1n a shrill tone. Never famous for a oe, XXXII, G Comnuiclooolkks (SO)