Beautiful Rienzi; or, The secret vendetta — page 114: what you’re looking at

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

BEAUTIFUL RIENZL 109 beckoned, but had no voice to call; then I sank back, and leaning my head on my hands gazed wildly forth again. It was dressed in a military cloak, a cap with a golden band on its head, a sword trailing. Its hand, which was gloveless and seemed bones, covered with glistening skin, hung down listlessly, its head drooped forward on its breast. “Cecil!” I called, huskily, as in a dream; the sound reached him, for he raised his head, and I knew that the face in the dark was looking at me. Suddenly the carriage moved off; I was dashed back on the seat, and Nelson drove | rapidly down to the first gang- way. I clenched my hands together. Why had Fate stepped in and dashed so strange a sight from my eyes? And then, almost instantly, incredulity attacked me. Could this in- deed have been the murdered man? Surely fancy had tricked me with a grotesque coincidence. I tore my thoughts from so mad a fantasy and shook off the delirious impres- sion. My mother was approaching the carriage door, leaning on her happy husband’s arm, and her eyes were directed in an eager gaze toward me, and the joy of seeing her swept away every other feeling, as I sprang into her arms. ““My child!” muttered the sweet, low voice of my infancy; “thank Heaven that you are still left to us.” ‘‘ Welcome, dearest mother,” I sobbed; ‘‘ welcome to our 129 hearts! I'clung to her sheltering bosom, and wept my lonely, tired heart light; for, ah, it was so sweet to see, after these long months of pain, the dear mother herself. But I quickly recovered myself, and, ashamed of my self- abandonment, hurried her into the carriage, where we could pour forth our mental emotions. It was a sweet, tender face, my mother’s, with no regular. ity of outline, but oreat delicacy of complexion, and that peculiar attractiveness and self-possession of style which makes the American woman second to the women of no other land in expression; her brows level and slight, but gracious; her lips fine in contour, though expressive of quiet firmness, and her eyes—ah, these were the beauties of her face, and bright as in her fresher years; they were large, blue eyes, clear as a transparent stream, and very like COMICOOO S (©)