Beautiful Rienzi; or, The Secret Vendetta — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

BEAUTIFUL RIENZI. 9 her charms in their affluence were scarce of this bat-like world, where dusky wrong clouds all things. ‘Is this—yes, it must be Iva!” said the lady, tremulously. ‘‘Heavens!” cried I, ‘‘ are you my sister, Isolina?” Her arms were round me by this time; she was embracing me; my head dropped on her bosom—she was mine. All this loveliness, this grace was mine; this yielding bosom was swelling for me, the tie of blood bound us together— my sister!” I clung to the exquisite vision and wept with joy as I inwardly resolved to deserve the love of so peerless a being; and while I was looking up at my sister’s perfect face, the father came in, grand as a Roman emperor—dark, kingly, soulful—and folded his swarthy, sun-ripened child in his arms, as the sweeter vision had done before; and we all laughed and wept together, though we were but strangers. We gayly recovered Professor Eustacio from a trance of philosophy at the open hatchway of the luggage-hold, and took him home with us in a rattling carriage which passed through scenes strange to eyes accustomed to the creeping waters and gondolas of the water-city; and my happy father led me by the hand up through a square garden into the tall mansion, where the dark polished door was thrown open and I was ushered into a hall of lofty magnificence, where a low-toned waiter bowed and welcomed Miss _Ivanilla «“ home.” And who so radiant and sprightly as this new companion of mine, when she had taken me up into her own pretty dressing-room, and ensconced me in a deep downy tipping- chair, which swayed me gently back and forth with a dream- like motion. How she laughed and fondled me when I made known at last the thoughts that were in my burning soul. ‘«<Tgolina,” I murmured, timidly ; ‘‘ you are the loveliest being I ever saw. You are so much fresher and fairer than grandmother Rienzi, though she was fair in my eyes—and even Signor Frinli, who was forty-eight, and very handsome, and a divine music-master, seems gross beside you. You must be the Queen of Beauty in this city, and have many to adore you. Will you care for my love too? I am eighteen, you know, and not a child, and I think my heart never was so moved as it has been by you. Will you let me love you, my sister ?” s «« Oh, you darling—yes! Eomichbooks.co