Beautiful Rienzi; or, The secret vendetta — page 218: what you’re looking at

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

BEAUTIFUL RIENZL 213 I sketched them all in groups, which I allowed them to criticise and praise to their hearts’ content; but I stole the lovely face of Isolina for my canvas, in all its moods and tenses, with a secrecy which puzzled myself. I never dreamed of addressing her alone; nay, more, I seldom ven- tured to speak to her at all, though I was on terms of play- ful intimacy with all the rest. Yet there was a silent sym- pathy between us which seemed to require no vehicle of speech, but throve on now and then a long, tender, yet proud gaze from her royal eyes, and sometimes the sudden touching of the hands. ‘* But my dream was rudely broken. Letters reached us from England, with the startling intelligence that my sister Alicia had been sent home from her studies in London, seri- ously ill, and her medical attendant apprehended the worst results; if I would see her alive, I must hasten home. When I received this letter, a storm of mixed griefs assailed me; all at once I felt the depth—the strength—the sweet- ness of my love for the ‘ Beautiful Rienzi.’ I must leave her, and turn to my despair again. My gentle sister, whose affection might have saved me, was dying; the last scion of my blood was about to be snatched away. Ivanilla, you can appreciate the sorrows of my position. ‘‘In the midst of my despair, Doctor Pemberton came to me, and his advice showed how his heart was interested in my happiness. | ““* Don’t sit there with your head down, man,’ he cried; ‘throw trouble tothe dogs. Go to your lovely lady—I’ll war- rant there’s one in the case, that makes you grip to America like this—and tell her right square up what you want. I don't think she’s the girl to send you home to poor Allie uncomforted.’ “TT was almost in a frenzy. ““«T have been ina dream! I exclaimed. ‘I forgot my tainted name and my doubtful honor when I dared to look upon Isolina Rienzi. She would turn with loathing from the son of an actress, whose dishonor has swallowed up in its blackness her miserable children!’ “«<She’ll forgive all but faultsin you. Go and try her, urged Pemberton, warmly. ‘Oh, man, what do you know about woman?’ ““T had to leave Saratoga that evening, so there was no time for reflection. I went straight to the cottage, my CORNUCG OOO S (©)