Beadle's Dime Novels, No. 11 — page 58: what you’re looking at

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

56 TUK PRISONER OF LA VINTRESSE. There is no need for any further conversation, allow me to bid you good night.” “Stop, senora,” exclaimed the man, his whole frame rigid with the effort to suppress the fiery tempest that raged in his veins. “Ido not often stop to plead even of women, but I do implore you to consider for a few moments—for a seeond only, the consequences of your arrestage—I can use no other word—by Don Carlos. Your determination to resist his pow- erful influence—and it is more powerful than you know—may involve the liberty and even the life of others, of one other, certainly. Do not be rash, senora; do not throw all protec- tion off; I would not have you think me utterly selfish— Heaven knows that my feelings are purely honorable. You must still let me be your friend, your counselor, It may be that. my influence will be of some avail; you are impetnous, and too easily offended. What have you ever seen in me worthy of your rash jalgemenat bat now.” What hal she seen? she questioned herself! Surely noth- ing. An unaccountable, perhaps rash impulse, had prempted . and possessed ber. Why should she make an implacable en- emy of the man? Doubtless he might still be her friend. And there was a hidden meaning in what he had sa‘d “ Perhaps I have been needlessly severe,” she said, her’ man- ner softening, “you do not know to what persecutions I have been subjected. I wish indeed I had a friend.” The tears CRme in her eyes—her lips trembled—never had she ap- peared so lovely. “ | pledge you my honor, I will be that friend,” he said ina voice of apparent sincerity. For a moment she trusted bim, and had she not looked in his eyes, she could have accepted his proffered kindness with alacrity—but there was something there that chillel her. She only said, “I thank’ you;” al- lowed him to take her hand for a parting pressure, and she was alone, dreading, trembling, and bewildered. “My poor child,” said the landlady, much affected, “how can I help you?” _“ Dress. me as a servant—put me into somebody's kitchen —only. diaguiae me so that I can never be recognized—it would be the greatest favor.” - comicloooks.corm