Beautiful Rienzi; or, The secret vendetta — page 172: what you’re looking at

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

BEAUTIFUL RIENZI. 167 mother! the lady is mounting into the carriage. The woman —mine. Oh, mother, they have dashed offi—we have lost her.” : ‘*Call Nelson,” said my mother, turning white. I rushed to the door and looked down the street; already had the carriage passed the station; it was flying up the road to Silverlea. I flew out heedless of the heavy rain, and almost knocked a man down, who was stepping across the wide ditch in front of the house. ‘‘ Hallo!” cried Mr. Fernley. ‘‘ What’s all the hurry for, madam ?” ‘© Qh, sir, who isthat? What lady was that who drove away?” ‘What lady? Mrs. Ringwood, who has kept me with her all 07 I darted away, leaving him staring with astonishment. The station was full of loungers, to whom Nelson was displaying the perfection of his bays. ‘Out with the carriage, and dash up to Fernley’s,” I muttered at his elbow, then sprang in. Without a word he mounted, whirled round the vehicle, and obeyed me to the letter. Mr. Fernley had just gained his own door step; and he turned with a concerned expres- sion of face to look at the arrival. At the same moment the door opened from within and my mother appeared. ‘*Good morning, Mr. Fernley,” she said, calmly, shaking hands. ‘‘I was about to call on Mrs. Ringwood—has she one?” | . ‘‘How unfortunate. She had important business at Shirley and had to go in spite of the weather. Can’t [——” ‘Probably she will call at Silverlea during our absence,” cried my mother in an agitation which she could not con- ceal. ‘* Weshall follow her. Good-morning again, sir.” She took her seat, and Nelson slammed-shut the door. ‘“Home!” she said, flinging herself back, and the car- riage moved off, leaving the bewildered house agent stand- ing under the double stream of roof-drops, expostulating. As soon as we had cleared the village, Nelson drove on at a rate which made the carriage windows rattle in their frames, and the trees rotate like dancing dervishes. In two minutes we were at the gate of Silverlea, and CORNUCG OOO S (©)