Beautiful Rienzi; or, The secret vendetta — page 51: what you’re looking at

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

46 BEAUTIFUL RIENZI. sister’s hand ison Mr. Lindhurst’s arm. What difference does it make to either of them? Well, if you still refuse, I will walk ‘straight into Lillia Meredith’s opera-box and re- nounce her forever.” That decided it. Isolina, with angry, downcast eyes, and flaming cheeks, stepped into the procession and walked across the platform, her hand tightly linked to Cecil Beau- montsarm, and I followed closely, too much engrossed by them even to lft my eyes to look around. The instant we had taken our seats, the face of Beaumont underwent a wonderful change [ could not but suspect that he was trying to give the im- pression to all who chose to notice, that he was the favored cavalier of ‘‘ The Beautiful Rienzi.” I trembled for poor Lillia Meredith, and raised my eyes to the reserved seats to find her. I soon detected the blush-rose dress in a seat very near the platform, and met the large, wistful eyes of the young girl fixed upon me with a timid, dazed expression ; then she turned them upon her lover, as if hoping to catch a glance from him. At length the business of the evening commenced, and J had no more time for observation. I have no inten- tion of presenting to the reader the details of this concert, which was conducted with perfect skill and taste. I shall merely touch here and there on those parts which imme- diately pertain to my history, and to myself. As the moment approached that I was to sing my first solo, Santa Cecelia! how my lips trembled! My hands grew icy cold, my cheeks flamed, a suffocating weight of nervous dread was on my heart. At last my name was whispered by those around me, a lady behind me gave me a gentle push which sent me to my feet ; murmurs of ‘‘ Don’t be afraid,” reached my quaking ears, ‘and Mr. Lindhurst’s calm eyes rested on me with a re- assuring smile which infused some courage into my half- dead frame. Without dariug to look up, I took my place beside a gayly bedizzened harp, swept the strings with wan- dering fingers which created an impromptu prelude, rather out of the course as I saw by the professor’s astonished looks, and at length, with a desperate effort, plunged into my song, quite unconscious of anything but the defects which my nervousness caused. This unique performance was gallantly applauded by the COMICOOO S (©)