Beautiful Rienzi; or, The secret vendetta — page 278: what you’re looking at

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

BEAUTIFUL RIENZI. 273 We were all gathered into Silverlea, which was the parent nest every summer, and the sweetest nest ever brood came home to; we were all gathered in, waiting for the long lost one, to tie Love’s knot, and make the rosy band complete. - But day after day had passed; friends had poured in and gone away again; Victor had arrived, feverish and incredu- lous, to watch once more with spirit-sickening eagerness; hearts were sinking, low prayers were stealing up to heaven —yet she was not here. | Three weeks since that day of joyful tidings—and she could have been here a fortnight ago—vague fears were whispering in every heart: why did she tarry? The eyes of love had stolen so often down these gravel walks, that they were dim and wavering, and hidden in a patient hand, the eyes of hope took up the watch, and were blinded and dazzled all at once. Yet it was only a simple garden-hat, bound with black ribbon, just such as had shone between these rows of fir- trees two years ago, one still summer morn. It came steadily on, now disappearing behind the aspen shades, now gleaming nearer, a speck of white in a mass of dark green —no, it has stopped—where has it gone? Not back? Poor soul! she is tired; she leans upon our iron gate; she bends her face on her crossed arms. If she were not so poor-looking—so lagging and foot-sore, I would say—Ah ! heart of mine, leap not so tumultuously! Can it be—oh! can it be my sister ? | One wild, glad cry! I am fiying down to the dusty traveler, I cannot wait to speak my joy; I am going to clasp my darling close, close, close! [I am going to drag her in from the flinty road, and bring her home, and lay her in the arms of him whose wife Heaven gave her to be. Oh, my heart, break not with joy! | She lifted her pale, tearful face. Her celestial eyes fell upon me, bright, tender, braveas the dauntless Minerva’s who leans upon a spear; aslow, sweet smile broke over her lips. , | ve Come in!” I exclaimed, pushing open the gate to get at her; ‘‘don’t stand out here.” Ts this my welcome? my faithful sister,” she breathed softy. | And that reminded me of another’s right. “Come!” I cried, with hysterical vehemence, ‘‘ Victor is CORNUCG OOO S (©)