Beautiful Rienzi; or, The secret vendetta — page 27: what you’re looking at

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

22 BEAUTIFUL RIENZI. “Go, Sophie—I am here,” I said in a sinking voice; the tempest had almost choked me. ‘Oh, miss, I’ve been knocking, and knocking.” ‘‘Very well, lam here now. You can go away, Sophie. I intend to dress myself.” ‘* Miss, there’s not five minutes—the dressing-bell rang long ago.” ‘Go, Sophie.” I stood aside to let her pass, fearing she might touch my wet clothes. When she was half way down stairs I unlocked my door, flung off my dripping cloak, and lit the gas, My hands were shaking with cold and terror. I could scarccly unbind my heavy black hair; sleet was among its coils, glistening and rippling down my neck. I stood be- fore the mirror in a trance of bewilderment, looking at my- self. Heavens! was that wild vision Ivanilla? I scarcely knew that white, scared face, these horrid lurid eyes. ‘¢ Miss Iva, it’s two minutes past six, and dinner is served,” said Sophie from the door. She came in, and I felt her looking at my back and all my dark rippling hair. I heard her gasp with wonder, but she made no remark. I turned round and she gasped again. She was looking at my face. ‘‘ Dress my hair, Sophie,” I murmured; ‘‘and, my girl, ou must see nothing—nothing, you understand? Sophie, e prudent!” She set a chair for me before the fire, and put a footstool beneath my feet. ‘Miss, let me get you a glass of wine!” she whispered. I looked her scoffingly in the face and laughed. ‘No, you silly child,” I said; but my laugh was a ghastly deception. : All the while she was arranging my hair I was trying to frame a question, but in vain. Then I heard the dressing-room door open, and a silken robe brush past my door, and I felt my cold face flame sud- den scarlet. ‘*Ts that Isolina?” I cried. ‘*Qh, yes, miss,” answered Sophie, catching her breath at my abruptness. CORNUCG OOO S (©)