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Updated: May 7, 2025
Those two were Gordon Graham and his sister Lydia the woman whose envious hatred had aided in that vile scheme by which Sir Oswald Eversleigh's happiness had been suddenly blighted. The Dales and Gordon Graham had been intimate from boyhood, when they had been school- fellows at Eton.
Sir Oswald rode behind Lady Eversleigh's barouche, too remote to hear the words that were spoken by those who occupied the vehicle; but quite near enough to distinguish the tones and the laughter, and to perceive every gesture. He saw Victor bend forward to address Honoria.
She turned to her husband with a smile "I am not in the least tired, my dear Oswald," she said; "and if our friends really wish for another song, I am quite ready to sing one. That is to say, if Mr. Carrington is not tired of accompanying me." Victor Carrington declared that nothing gave him greater pleasure than to play Lady Eversleigh's accompaniments. "Mr.
"One moment, sir, I implore you," burst out Randolph breathlessly, "if your kind offer is based upon the mistaken belief that I have the least claim upon Miss Eversleigh's consideration more than that of simple friendship if anybody has dared to give you the idea that I have aspired by word or deed to more, or that the young lady has ever countenanced or even suspected such aspirations, it is utterly false, and grateful as I am for your kindness, I could not accept it."
"I know nothing personally of Lady Eversleigh's disappearance," said Reginald; "but I have good reason to believe that Miss Graham could tell you much, if she chose to speak out. She has hinted at being in the secret, and I think it only right you should question her." "I will question her," answered sir Oswald, starting to his feet. "Send her to me, Reginald." Mr.
He had a strong conviction that neither the relinquishment of Lady Eversleigh's designs of punishing her enemies, nor the finding of the heiress by other than his agency, would inflict any injury upon him a conviction which was amply justified by his future experience.
It was the letter written by the wretched girl who drowned herself in the Seine the letter of Reginald Eversleigh's victim the very letter on the evidence of which Sir Oswald had decided that his nephew was no fitting heir to a great fortune. The baronet's brow contracted as he read.
Maunders," remonstrated the groom. "I was on the point of telling you that our head-coachman had a holiday this Christmas; and where does he go but up to London, to see his friends, which live there; and while in London where does he go but to Drury Lane Theatre; and while coming out of Drury Lane Theatre who does he set his eyes on but Miss Payland, Lady Eversleigh's own maid, as large as life, and hanging on the arm of a respectable elderly man, which might be her father.
But Miss Graham could scarcely repress a sigh of envy as she looked at Lady Eversleigh's more simple toilet, and perceived that, with all its appearance of simplicity, it was twice as costly as her own more gorgeous attire.
Reginald Eversleigh's face grew hot with shame as he remembered the insults he had been obliged to endure with pretended unconsciousness. He feared to encounter other men who also had been losers at Hilton House, and who might speak as significantly as the viscount had spoken.
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