Beautiful Rienzi; or, The Secret Vendetta — page 207: what you’re looking at

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

200 BEAUTIFUL RIENZI. - pushed me from her, wildly, and turned away, down the shallow steps. In a dream I watched her let herself out at the gate; in a miserable dream I saw the distance widen between us; her white hat sometimes shone between the trees—she vanished from my view. The lovely scene was quiet and serene and lifeless! : I could not move hand or foot while this war of conflicting feelings was going on, then suddenly, like the death-knell of the condemned, came a Jong, chill whistle from the rail- way station. She would go away in the cars, and be lost to us forever. If I would, I could not recall her now. I rushed like a maniac among the whispering aspens, and — flung myself upon the dewy ground. But this paroxysm of despair passed away at last, and softer thoughts succeeded. Could I not trust the Hand which supported me better than that? Would He allow our dearest and our best to come to harm? Hours had passed over my head of which I was uncon- scious, and when I rose from my hiding-place I was aston- ished at the height of the sun; it could not have been less than nine o’clock. My mind was in a strange whirl of ecstasy and unnatural elevation; I had soared beyond the touch of earthly sor-— rows; I could almost exult at the magnitude of any sacri- fices. In this mood I returned to the house, and found that my absence had caused great anxiety. ‘Oh, Miss Iva dear!” said Sophie, who as usual was weep- ing bitterly, ‘‘ you hadn’t ought to go away this way! And your clothes are wet with dew, and your hands so hot! Missy darling, I don’t know how you’ll bear it—Dr. Pemberton says there’s news for you. Go in there.” I went into the parlor, and there. to my surprise, I found my mother. She was sitting in an easy-chair, her head lean- ing against the cushion, her face wan and sorrowful, her eyes red with weeping. She looked so frail and pitiful, with her muslin wrapper flowing round her small, elegant figure, and one hand smoothed in bandages, that I could have wept over the grief she suffered, when I was above feel- ing my own. Dr. Pemberton was swallowing a hasty and solitary break- fast, with a hat on a chair by his side, Comicbooks- co