Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: July 8, 2025
And then came death an awful lingering death, whilst the loathsome rats had finished the work which starvation and death had begun, and now all that remained of Arthur Dynecourt was a heap of bones!
Dynecourt!" she repeats in amazement, her color rising. "What an extraordinary idea to come into your head! No; if anything, I confess I felt for your cousin nothing but contempt and dislike." "Then, Florence, what has come between us?" he exclaims, seizing her hand. "You must have known that I loved you many weeks ago.
"You take no pains indeed to hide your scorn of me," says Dynecourt bitterly. "I regret it, if I have at any time treated you with incivility," returns Florence, with averted eyes and with increasing coldness. "Yet I must always think that, for whatever has happened, you have only yourself to blame." "Is it a crime to love you?" he demands boldly.
He still smiles as he says this, and looks expectantly at Sir Adrian, who, as in duty bound, instantly tells him he is very glad to see him, and that he is a good fellow to have come without waiting for a more formal repetition of his invitation. Then he takes him over to old Lady FitzAlmont, the mother of Lady Gertrude Vining, and introduces him to her as "my cousin Mr. Dynecourt."
"Ah, how like a guilty creature you stand there!" exclaims Dynecourt, regarding her bowed and trembling figure. "I see plainly that this must be looked into. Miserable woman! If you know aught of my cousin, you had better declare it now." "Traitor!" cries Dora, raising her pale face and looking at him with horror and defiance.
He has title, lands, position above and beyond everything, the priceless treasure of your love, whilst I am bankrupt in all. Show me some mercy some kindness!" They are both so agitated that they fail to hear the sound of approaching footsteps. "Release me, sir," cries Florence imperiously. "Nay; first answer me one question," entreats Dynecourt. "Do you love my cousin?"
Dynecourt, losing his self-possession as he gazes upon her, suddenly flings himself at her feet and catches her dress in his hands to detain her. "Have pity on me," he cries imploringly; "it is my unhappy love for you that has driven me to speak thus! Why is Adrian to have all, and I nothing?
Just at this moment they come within full view of the old tower, and its strange rounded ivy-grown walls, and the little narrow holes in the sides they show at its highest point that indicate the position of the haunted chamber. What is there at this moment in a mere glimpse of this old tower to make Arthur Dynecourt grow pale and to start so strangely?
"Have we met so often?" asks Florence quietly, but with a touch of hauteur and dislike in her tone. Then she too gives a cold little hand to Mr. Dynecourt, who lingers over it until she disdainfully draws it away, after which he turns from her abruptly and devotes himself to Dora Talbot. The widow is glad of his attentions.
His suggestion has taken firm root in Sir Adrian's mind, and at least, as he frankly says, though it may be useless to hunt for it in that uncanny chamber, it is worth a try. It may be there. This dim possibility drives him on to his fate. "Well, if you go alone and unprotected, your blood be on your own head," says Dynecourt lightly, at last surrendering his position.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking