Beautiful Rienzi; or, The Secret Vendetta — page 173: what you’re looking at

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

166 BEAUTIFUL RIENZI. encounter without a protection; “let us wait for the house- agent,” aiermene you’d better come in, ma’am,” said the woman from the door. JI still urged my mother, and we alighted. «Take the horses down under cover of the station,” said mamma to the coachman; ‘‘we may not want you for half an hour. We can walk across the street to the hotel.” We followed the woman into Mr. Fernley’s bachelor arlor. ae Have you any idea how long your master may be ab- sent,” asked mamma. “No, ma’am. Iwas in the kitchen when he went out -more’n an hour ago, and I wouldn’t have know’d, only I hear the door slam after him, and seen his legs passing my window. ‘Now,’ thinks I, ‘where are you off to?’ But he’ll be back to dinner sure, ma’am—he never misses; and it’s always punctual at half-past twelve. It’s—twenty-five minutes past twelve by our clock. Sit down, miss; I must go turn my beefsteak.” The woman bustled away, leaving us standing in attitudes of impatience and indecision. ‘“We may as well be patient,” said my mother, seating herself; ‘‘ there is nothing hurrying us.” I placed a chair close by the window and sat down. Some minutes of silence passed by, during which time my eyes re- verted from window to window of the opposite building, but I found nothing to rivet my attention. ee Listen!” I hissed, with upraised finger. ‘‘ What is that?” My mother sprang to my side and looked out. ‘You can see nothing, mother—the window is rushing with water, and a bank of fog has rolled between us; but hist! Do you hear the creaking—that grit of wheels—a sound of feet on their wooden balcony? Heaven! why did we come here? Ah! I see an outline through the volume of obscurity; a carriage is at the door of the hotel.” ‘* Heaven grant it may not be for Mrs. Ringwood!” ejacu- lated my mother, with real alarm. ‘‘Mamma, a man is drawing the horse close to the foot of the steps.. Now he is spreading a shawl over the seat. I cannot see more; the glass is dense with steam and rain. Ah! T have wiped the pane; now we can see better. Mother, GComicbooks: co