Beautiful Rienzi; or, The Secret Vendetta — page 26: what you’re looking at

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

BEAUTIFUL RIENZL — 19. —one smile to lighten my weary banishment,” said the fallen conqueror, lightly. ‘* Will my countrywoman re- fuse?” he added, in a lower tone. I offered him my basket, and whispered with reproach: “Signor, you did not tell me of your broken troth when you asked me to plead for you. Go back to your true love— leave her not for ambition or inconstancy.” Then I wheeled ronnd and went away with Isolina. We did not stay long after that; the peerless face of the Scottish queen was grave, her eyes searching and weary; ere long we came to our father and asked him to take us home. Cava- liers unnumbered thronged round us in the vestibule; one small, strong hand caught mine and pressed it before the carriage door was shut, and 1 found a slip of paper in my palm, on which I quietly read: “Be my friend, Ivanilla, or I cannot answer for my doom.” Once more the night came on; the storm shrieked fiercely. ‘‘ Heaven save the poor mariner!” said my father, who came home early to keep his lonely daughter company. At five o'clock it was almost dark; you would have thought there were a thousand fairies in the air, had you dared to put your head out. ‘I’he yery house was rocking in the storm. ‘Keep papa company while I dress for dinner,” said Isolina, with her watch for the fiftieth time in her hand. She left the drawing-room and went up stairs. I did not like her manner—it had startled me—it was so unnatural. I took up my harp and laid it away again. I could not play—I could not keep my father company. I slipped out and went up stairs. My sister was standing at the window; Sophie, the maid, was taking hair brushes out of a dressing-case to commence her work. | ‘*T would like to dress as usual with you; I couldn’t wait with papa,” I began. She turned round and came toward me, and smoothed my cheek fondly with her hand. ‘‘ How—how pale you are, dearest! how cold yore hand is! Why have you stood by that window so long? the storm has affrighted you!” A tornado of rain and sleet drowned my voice; she Gomichoo SS (eo)