Beautiful Rienzi; or, The secret vendetta — page 88: what you’re looking at

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

BEAUTIFUL RIENZI. 83 ‘© My darling! my poor ne! have we got you at last? Have we got you at last?” Then I remembered my -ather, but he was taking no no- tice of us, and listening to what the matron was saying in the hall. | ‘* We couldn’t get the lady’s things gathered at such short notice,” she was saying, ‘‘so Doctor Oaks says he will be happy to see you to-morrow, and answer to the best of his ability any questions you may wish to ask, and the wardrobe will be ready by that time. Also, Doctor Oaks hopes that the young lady and you will exctise him coming to you this evening, as a patient requires his particular care just at present.” ‘Tell Doctor Oaks to be ready to meet me by twelve o’clock to-morrow,” answered my father, gravely; ‘‘and be so kind as to dispatch some one to the corner of the lane for a carriage which is waiting there.” Mr. Hobson made himself visible at this, and civilly of- fered to do us that service. While he was gone, my father suffered himself to look toward his child for the first time, though secretly, lest the curious matron might discover the emotions which rose to his face, and guess at his relation- ship to the patient. Ah! who could crush back the rising tear, who looked at that pallid, wasted creature, in her prison dress? Ina few minutes the carriage arrived, and in the next minute I had led Isolina out from under the roof of Doctor Oak’s private asylum, and seen her safely seated in the back seat, with the wrappings we had brought placed upon her; and the bonnet and shawl whica the asylum provided, thrown on the door step of that institution. ‘‘ My good fellow,” said mhy father to Hobson, who offici- ously held the carriage door for him, “‘here’s another testi- monial to your worth,” he handed him a twenty dollar bill, ‘and take my advice—don’t let me catch you waiter here on my next descent upon the worthy establishment. Drive on, coachman.” Nelson, whose soft, melodious whistling had subsided into dead silence at the appearance of his lost mistress, now planted the hat, which in his surprise he had snatched off, back on his head, sprang to his seat, gave a trium- phant chirp to his horses, and drove fleetly toward the ferry. CORNUCG OOO S (©)