Shrewsbury a romance, p.1
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       Shrewsbury: A Romance, p.1

           Stanley John Weyman
 
Shrewsbury: A Romance


  Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by Google Books

  Transcriber's Notes:

  1. Page scan source: https://books.google.com/books?id=Je-hnRe2EckC

  2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe].

  SHREWSBURY

  _BY THE SAME AUTHOR._

  THE HOUSE OF THE WOLF A Tale of the Massacre of St. Bartholomew.

  A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE. A Tale of the Days of Henry of Navarre.

  THE RED COCKADE. A Tale of the French Revolution.

  WITH A GESTURE BETWEEN CONTEMPT AND IMPATIENCE THE DUKEREMOVED HIS HAT]

  SHREWSBURY

  A Romance

  BY

  STANLEY J. WEYMAN

  AUTHOR OF "A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE," "UNDER THE RED ROBE," "THE HOUSE OF THE WOLF," ETC.

  WITH 24 ILLUSTRATIONS

  BY

  CLAUDE A. SHEPPERSON

  LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.

  39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON

  NEW YORK AND BOMBAY

  1898

  Copyright, 1897 By STANLEY J. WEYMAN * * * _All rights reserved_

  TO MY BROTHER HENRY

  IN MEMORY OF A SUNDAY AFTERNOON IN THE YEAR 1877 THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED

  LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

  With a gesture between contempt and impatience the duke removed hishat. _Frontispiece_.

  She looked directly at me.

  In an instant I was on the other side of the fence.

  Stole down the stairs and into the garden.

  My companion seized my wrist.

  The constable led me out of the crowd.

  "When my back is turned go through that window."

  He wore a dingy morning-gown and had laid aside his wig.

  "Damn your King William, and you too!" he cried.

  He pressed the ring of cold steel.

  In the great chair sat an elderly lady leaning on an ebony stick.

  I heard a light foot following me.

  With a gesture between contempt and impatience the duke removed hishat.

  I flung my arms round him from behind, and with my right hand jerkedup the pistol.

  A slight gentleman ambled and paced in front of a child.

  "Now we will have that letter, if you please."

  I saw a man had come to a stand before the door.

  The place was nothing more than a concealed cupboard.

  And turning from me, he began to pace the room, his hands claspedbehind him.

  She came a step nearer to me, and peered at me.

  Sir John ... stared at me a moment.

  She listened in silence, standing over me with something of theseverity of a judge.

  He shut himself in with his trouble.

  I stood there at last ... the faces at the table all turned towardsme.

  She was making marks on the turf with a stick.

  SHREWSBURY

 
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