The Bride Elect: or, The Doom of the Double Roses — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

THE BRIDE ELECT, q about? You mustn’t wear a bride’s things on mortal frame till she has worn them; it’s not—not lucky for the bride.” | ““Oh, Mrs. Ellathorne!” and ‘‘Ha! ha! Mrs. Ella- thorne!” burst from the irreverent bride-maids; but Florice Calvert, sister of the bride, hastily threw off the bridal vail, with a glance at the silent figure in the window. Softly she folded the vail, and softly Jaid it down, her eyes yearning as the brooding dove’s, fixed on her sister, till, waked by silence from a smiling reverie, she turned her calm, noble countenance toward them. In a moment Florice was at her side, brimming with impulsive emotion. ‘‘Glencora, my dear, my dear!” she murmured. ‘‘ You shall never meet ill fortune, if Florice be your fate!” Glencora took the passionate, upturned face between her two hands, and stooping, kissed it on each cheek; then, with a little sigh, succeeded by a sudden little smile that transfigured the majesty of her expression into childish radiance, she put Florice aside, and leaned on the casement again. Mrs. Ellathorne cleared her throat, and looked at her, stitched busily a minute, and then broke up her charmed silence. “Glencora, will you continue your jotting?” Upon which the bride started, and, with blushing cheeks, picked up a small black morocco note-book, gilt-edged and clasped, and tapping upon the board with the slender pencil she had drawn from its sheath, waited, with bright regards fastened on Mrs. Ellathorne. ‘You had arrived at Venice in the second week of August,” began that lady; ‘‘ write how long you will prob- ably remain. A week? ‘Then the last of August sees you en route for Switzerland. No? You will not wander far- her? Then just add the date of your probable return, GEomichbooks: co