Beautiful Rienzi; or, The secret vendetta — page 41: what you’re looking at

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

36 BEAUTIFUL RIENZI, The first glance in Lillia Meredith’s face assured me that she could never rival mv peerless sister either in mind or at- tractious. I no longer blamed the inconstant lover. ‘‘Ivanilla, this is your expected visitor, Miss Meredith,” said my sister, turning to me. Miss Merediths eves had been full of tears, in tribute to something Isolina had been saying, but now she sprang up and came to me, wiping them away with a sprightly alr. ‘¢ Dear me, everything’s hazy before me, I've been crying so. Now [can see you plainer, and what a romantic style you have! The nine muses look out of your eves, Miss Ivanilla—oh! what would I not give to havea sister ora confidante like vou! You are just exactly like his des- cription!—oh, dear! Isolina has been telling me the most, horrible tales of mv poor wicked Cecil! Sha/’n’t we tell her all about it, Isolina?” Isolina having gravely consented, Lillia, without permit- ting me to remove my wrappings, began instantly to confide. “You see I nursed Cecil when he was a sick prisoner— my father was governor of the prison, you know—aynd I grew to adore him, though he was a Southern officer, and just as proud and fierce as they generally are; and for my sake, when he was liberated he settled himself in Washing- ton and became an author; and though papa is very wealthy, he never said anything against my Cecil, just because he saw that my heart was set on having him. I am so glad I am papa’s only child and can do as [like. But, oh! isn’t it dreadful to think of—he has been cool to me these months past, and Isolina tells me that she is the lady for whom he has forsaken me. Poor Isolina! and wretched, wicked Cecil, to torture her when she does not like him. No wonder she is so distressed about it. ‘“‘ We has been in New York here, dangling after Isolina who does not want him, and writing me the most horrible notes, half a dozen lines in length, but enough to put me in fits. Listen to this one, which came three days ago: ‘> You shall ever be the sweet prison flower of my memory, which wooed me back to hfe-—-butno,no! You shall never wither in my chill keeping ; I give you back your gentle love, my child of sunshine, and put the bridge of silence between us forevermore. Fate--remorseless terrible—urges me on to try the fatal chance once more, which gives me CONN (7) LIAOO (©)