Beautiful Rienzi; or, The secret vendetta — page 254: what you’re looking at

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

BEAUTIFUL RIENZL 249 “You remember we went to Silverlea; and that you ceased to wish any explanation from me? ‘Ah, how thankful I was to rest awhile in peace! each day added was a boon that I thanked Heaven humbly for; I only prayed that God would let me stay a month with you, but He left me nearly three. ‘‘Then the day long dreaded came. My mother found me out and came to claim her promise. | «<¢ You promised to come and do a daughter’s duty when I came to you,’ she said; ‘now is the time; bid the Rienzis farewell for life and join your fortunes to mine. I claim my own child.’ ““*Give me a week—three days!’ I cried, frantically. “Do not tear me away at a moment’s warning.” “«* You love them!’ she exclaimed, fiercely; ‘you despise your poor, ill-fated mother, whose life is hunted for by these Rienzis. Then I will go to Victor Joselyn, and claim my place in Joselyn Wold; he will not turn his mother adrift.’ ‘«« Spare him,’ I gasped; ‘let me take his place. I will go where you please, only donot go to him.’ ‘“*VYou will come to-day, then?’ she replied; ‘they have put detectives on my track, and they are going to accuse me of attempting to poison Ivanilla Rienzi—an infamous lie, my child; and my life will be sworn away to the very death if they can find me. A malady is approaching me; I have had it twice; once when my perjured lover forsook me— twice when the dead body of Rienzi’s child lay in my arms. I have heard that when this malady visits one the third time it becomes incurable. It is coming! In twenty-four hours I will be hopelessly mad! Look at my eyes—my throat; touch my temples and my pulse. See if it is not so?’ | ‘‘She dashed off her blue spectacles. I saw with horror the wild glare of incipient madness in her eyes, and in the quick throbbing of her throat and temples. Infinite com- passion filled my heart. J could scarcely forbear weeping. «©*Mother, is it hereditary?’ I asked; ‘I also was mad, you know.’ «¢* Yes,’ she whispered; ‘a Lancinetto has been shut up for the last three centuries; there is always a Lancinetto shut up.’ «<<Tfthis overtakes you, tell me what to do.’ CORNUCG OOO S (©)