Beautiful Rienzi; or, The secret vendetta — page 170: what you’re looking at

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

BEAUTIFUL RIENZI. 165 til our return, and at half-past eleven we drove away from Silverlea. It was a dismal day; white sheets of drizzle were skur- rifying landward over the black and leaden waves; sullen clouds lowered over the dripping trees, and sudden gusts swept the small chill rain-drops upon the carriage windows. My spirits sank in unison with the atmosphere, when the station was reached, and Ernest held my hand, bidding me farewell. I burst into tears. ‘J will go back with you—I shall not leave you!” he ex- claimed, impulsively. ‘“No, no!” I answered, restraining myself; “‘ I am foolish. Farewell! Iam not afraid. Adieu, my love.” Tears dropping fast hid his beloved face from me. I turned my head to the carriage cushion, aid my mother shut the door. In two minutes Mr. Lindhurst was rattling over the wooden bridge, and round the curve of the hill, and we were once more alone. ‘‘ Now, shall we visit Mrs. Ringwood?” said my mother, gently breaking in upon my grief. ‘‘ Do you feel capable?” Indeed I did not; my courage had all oozed away with the vanishing train.” ‘We cannot go alone,” I said, imploringly. ‘Let us get Mr. Fernley to go with us. He can introduce us, you know.” | And so it was decided. Nelson drove up the street and stopped at Mr. Fernley’s cottage, which was directly oppo- site <‘ Old Sol,” and while he knocked at the door I gazed at each window in turn which the hotel afforded, in hopes that the noise of the carriage might have attracted my in- cognito to the window. But either the lady was deaf, or exempt from the weak- ness of her sex; I gazed in vain. Presently a woman appeared at the door with a gravy spoon in her hand, and a half-peeled onion in the other. ‘Tg Mr. Fernley within?” asked mamma from her seat. ‘“Not jest yet, ma’am.” She cautiously poked her head out between two intermittent roof-torrents, and looked up and down street. ‘‘I am looking for him every minute, ma’am.”’ | ‘What shall we do? said my mother, turning to me. ‘‘ Had we not better introduce ourselves at the hotel?” ‘¢Qh, no!” I exclaimed, shrinking from the idea of an CORNUCG OOO S (©)