For your reading pleasure, Tempest presents yet another exquisite example of romantic narrative…

Bloody, Ebony Castle
by Luiz Cholmondeley Oddfellow

   Waiting alone in the secret alcove they had both come to know so well, with the antediluvian sprightly piping of the Vicar’s flageolet wafting in from outside, the twice-jilted Holly thought once more of the Chief’s handsome son, the mysterious stranger with the large dog. He was now, according to the best salon gossip, lost forever in the wilds of the Amazon.
   Only in this moment of extremity could it have happened that came the sound of her own name being called, and she felt her heart suddenly beat with a new, wild rhythm. He was here! “All I have is yours, my dewy, doll-faced delight!” he breathed in the outwardly-rough manner she had grown to love.
   At that moment the horror of these last months vanished in a blaze of joy, and as he excitedly began to show her his plans for the villa they were to share, she made a mental note to call Jesus later and tell her all about it.

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