Beautiful Rienzi; or, The secret vendetta — page 137: what you’re looking at

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

132 BEAUTIFUL RIENZI. glad you have not gone yet. I fear this is another patient tor you.” ‘* Be seated, madam,” said the lawyer, ceremoniously plac- ing a chair. ‘“‘If you have an hour to spare, I should feel deeply indebted if you would bestow it upon me. The doctor is attending to the lady—she is not dangerously in- disposed, for which we thank Heaven, madam. May I claim your attention?” * | ‘‘ Certainly,” said my mother, seating herself, with a slightly paler cheek. Dr. Graves very deliberately poured out a glass of wine from a decanter on the buffet and made me drink it. “Cast back your memory, madam,” began the lawyer, impressively, ‘‘ and review each lady friend you ever had, and tell me if you are conscious of ever giving them cause of enmity against you. Any jealousy,” he glanced witha faint smile at my father, ‘‘or wrong? In short, do you know of any soul who could bear you hatred?” My mother sat reviewing her past life with an astounded face, and then she shook her head decidedly. ‘‘ Always bearing this in mind,” continued the lawyer,” ‘‘listen to the facts your daughter has just made known to us.” He snatched up the sheet of paper on which he had been writing, and read nearly word for word the story as I had related it. Paler than ever grew my mother’s face ; her eyes darkened and turned toward my father in anxious appeal; when the words which the woman had used were repeated to her, she clasped her nands and bent forward with a sudden revela- tion on her face which caused the lawyer to pause, and fix his keen eyes upon her. ‘My oath is fulfilled! ‘What does that bring to your memory, madam? You remember something?” «<A mere surmise,” she answered; “‘go on to the end. Perhaps my husband,” she looked again at him, ‘‘ may be able to recall some one who might have an oath to fulfill. Goon, Mr. Speingle.” ‘he lawyer went on to the end, folded up the paper, and twisted it round and round in his fingers. ‘““My poor child,” was my mother’s first exclamation, while she bent over me and kissed me. ‘Oh, what an COMICOOO S (©)