Beautiful Rienzi; or, The Secret Vendetta — page 64: what you’re looking at

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

BEAUTIFUL RIENZI. 57 CHAPTER VIL. THERE IS NO GRIEF LIKE THE GRIEF THAT DOES NOT SPEAK. *‘ He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone; At his head a grass green turf, At his heels a stone.” —Hamter. ‘*Break, thou deep vase of chilling tears, That grief hath shaken into frost.” —TrEnnyson. A presence was with me in my fathomless slumber; it brought me up from the circles of oblivion, until a sense of returning existence began to enter my dormant. brain. Slowly though, for my weary head seemed clasped by bands of iron; but at last the Presence bending over me became a reality; I opened my eyes with a confused terror. Was that my father’s face? It was gray and distorted to my unsteady vision—surely ten years had passed since I fell asleep. ‘* Father!” I cried, springing up all at once; “‘what have you come to tell me?” ‘< Poor little girl,” whispered he, compassionately, ‘I scarcely liked to waken you, you were sleeping so soundly. Oh, my daughter!” | He took me in his arms, and suddenly a great deep sob rent his frame. Isaid nothing, but I clung to him and Waited. «Something dreadful has happened,” he gasped, after a while; ‘Cecil Beaumont was found—was found dead last night at twelve o’clock beneath a bridge, ten miles on the road!” « Dead, father!’ «And they sav——-” Here he broke down and wept such tears as would kill a woman—tears that came with throes of agony and strong wrenches of the laboring chest while he rocked with me to and fro; ‘'they say there has been foul play—that Isolina—my girl that could not harm a living thing—oh, my God! I cannot believe it!” comicbook és an . ho. Oe Coe ae 3 E a . a. > “Foret Mt ee Be Be ou , 2