Beautiful Rienzi; or, The secret vendetta — page 18: what you’re looking at

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

BEAUTIFUL RIENZLI 13. CHAPTER II. I CHASE A PHANTOM, AND FAIL TO FIND IT. “Tt speaks of storm and tempest; Wild horror and despair; And its numbers chill the life-blood, For the dirge of Dara is there!”—ANown. I got my hat and paced up and down the gravel walk be- fore the house. ‘The evening was chilly, and the beds of purple petunias and black pansies were bathed in a white hoarfrost, the forerunner of that winter I could not remem- ber. I drew my scarf yet tighter round my shoulders, though I felt no cold; my blood was burning, my cheeks fevered with the strange prophetic dread which had come upon me; dismay was at my heart. An hour passed by—to me a long and anxious one; the sun sank like a rocket, in an inflamed haze, behind the houses; I looked up fixedly now at the drawing-room win- dows where broad gleams of firelight spurted out between the curtains; I went to the stone parapet by the garden gate and looked longingly down the street for my father; I was lonely, thus shut out from my sister by a stranger. I was terrified, and crept back to the door. At the foot of the steps I met Mr. Cecil Beaumont. ‘‘ Ah! the dark eyed lady!” he said, laying his hand lightly on mine. ‘Do you know that I have never heard your voice yet? Come—you are going to befriend me?” ‘Signor, what can I do for you? I would willingly make you less wretched if I had the power.” ‘Why do you think I’m wretched, my little one?” “Your eyes—alas! there is a tragedy of woe in them; I shudder with grief as I behold them.” ‘It has not come yet,” he answered, with a hollow laugh; ‘but itis coming. She, ‘The Beautiful Rienzi,’ will share it—do you hear?—if this little hand of yours does not try to ward it back!” His wild, desperate face became pale; I recoiled and looked at him in terror. CORNUCG OOO S (©)