Beautiful Rienzi; or, The secret vendetta — page 207: what you’re looking at

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

202 BEAUTIFUL RIENZI. give me up to what I swear to be my duty, and though this parting may be to all time, meet mein eternity! Cherish my Ivanilla; oh, love, how can I break your loyal little heart! Heaven’s blessing on those who made my whole life happy; their prayers for the heavy days that come upon me. Farewell mother. IsoLIna.”’ These incoherent, wild words bedewed my eyes with tears; I laid my head upon my mother’s lap, and wept, but not bitterly; it was for the grief of others; not for my own. “Yes, cry—cry, itll do you good,” said the doctor, «it'll cool your brain, poor girl. I don’t like these ecsta~ sies, when one’s friends are snatched away—not natural— there must be a terrible rebound some time. Madam, don’t check her; she requires it.” But I dried my tears and looked up. The doctor had fin- ished his breakfast, and was preparing to depart. «“ Where are you going, Dr. Pemberton?” I asked, wist- fully. ‘To get Gemma Lancinetto arrested!’ was the startling reply. «You will not—please do not attempt to pursue my sis- ter; she is doing a sacred duty, and we have no right to tamper with her conscience.” ‘¢Good Heaven, child!” he cried, ‘‘ can you be so credu- lous? She has gone to sacrifice her Ife, Pl lay my hand on it, to save yours. Conscience! You don’t know the woman you have to deal with--you never saw the Lanci- netto.” «‘An interruption here occurred to the good doctor’s in- dignation; a gentleman on horseback appeared coming up the lane. In an instant Dr. Pemberton was on the piazza waving his hat with every demonstration of joy, which increased as the rider approached, until he dashed down his hat and ran out with his head uncovered, and received the horseman in his arms, as he dismounted. “< Guiseppe! met at last!” ‘‘What, who is this?” said my father, whose pale and anxious face was seamed with haggard care. ‘*Not know Alphonse? Little Alphonse, your old com- rade?” cried the doctor, impetuously, and yet.we paddled in the same brook, and loved the same sonnets in Virgil for the CONN (7) LIAOO (©)