Beautiful Rienzi; or, The secret vendetta — page 206: what you’re looking at

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

BEAUTIFUL RIENZL 201 ‘<¢'Yes, it’s just what I thought, madam,” exclaimed he, when I appeared; ‘‘she’s been at some frenzy work. See that face! Have you been flying after your sister, Ivanilla? Come here!” But I did not go to the good doctor; I flew to my mother and laid my strange, light head upon her bosom. ‘*Mother, why should you mourn?” I exclaimed. ‘‘ God is taking care of her. Give Him whatever He asks for— He is welcome—welcome—welcome! [I would give you, mother sweet, and father, and Ernest, if He said it, and live alone, and be happy.” But my rapture only inspired her with terror; she turned to the doctor her beautiful, appealing eyes, and burst into tears. ‘Unnatural excitation of the nervous system,” said the doctor, who by this time had my hand in his; ‘pulse fly- ing. My little girl, why must you always be at a crisis of feeling? You're too sensitive, and too ethereal; the wild Southern blood which is rushing through these veins will wear you out if you don’t learn our Northern philosophy. You must learn that this life is made up of disappoint- ments, and expect them. Lay another fold of philosophy on your heart, child—it’s not callous enough.” He dropped my hand and turned suddenly away; his last words had sounded husky and forced; his philoso- phy seemed to fail him him just where it should hold out best. «Do not be alarmed for me,” I breathed, again, throw- ing my arms about my mother; ‘I am resigned; our be- loved Isolina has gone because 1t washer duty to go, and Heaven will comfort her, for she left her heart with us.” ‘‘ Duty!” howled the doctor, in a rage, ‘‘ the sorceress has bewitched her, and you. I think. Duty!” But nothing could disturb my enraptured mood. I re- counted tomy mother every word which had passed be- tween my sister and me, the doctor listening most atten- tively. <“'There!’ he said, throwing me a note, ‘ that’s what she left us.” “You whom [have known and loved as mother, blot me out of your memory now. I goto guard you from the vengeance of one whom misery has maddened. I cannot tell you what I have sworn to keep secret—darling mother; respect my vow. Do not pursue me; CORNUCG OOO S (©)