Beautiful Rienzi; or, The secret vendetta — page 19: what you’re looking at

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

14 BEAUTIFUL RIENZI. ‘What can J do, Mr. Beaumont?” I exclaimed. ‘*You can be my advocate; she loves you, and will lis- ten. Youcan see that no interloper comes between us—and when they do, apprise me.” ‘‘ Be a spy, sir?” | ‘‘Pshaw! a spy on your own sister, Miss Ivanilla? That is impossible—the sisters hide nothing from each other.” ‘‘Or from their lovers? Instruct me; I have not learned your American usages.” “‘ You refuse, then, to plead for the hapless refugee? You laugh at the agony of a heart sensitive as your own, and writhing beneath sorrows of which scorned love is the crowning one. You turn from your countryman and refuse to help him?” “‘My countryman? I never turn from an Italian, sir.” ‘‘My mother is an Italian, and I inherit all her fire— with but little of the bravery of my Virginian sire. I can bear poverty, exile, and toil, my friend, but I cannot bear to lose the heart I love so wildly.” ‘* Perhaps she loves another, sir.” He flung away my hand; his face petrified with jealousy. He put his hand to his heart, as if I had stunned him, anu eyed me desperately. ‘‘T have no proof for such a supposition,” I said, my heart aching for him; ‘“‘I do not think my sister’s affection is engaged to any one; but how else could one construe her coldness to you? Courage, my friend; I will sound the waters of my Isolina’s soul, and if an image Is painted there, you must be content to ride away, asking no questions, as a true knight should. If not, Iva shall paint thee there in brightest colors; I will be your friend, Mr. Beaumont.” He caught my hand and kissed it ardently. A wondrous change was in his face; its hard, desperate look was gone, and it spoke but of sweet tenderness; those melting eyes fixed upon me a wistful gratitude, too pure, too sincere for treachery. ‘‘T will dare to cherish hope, then, with so resistless a pleader as you, lady,” he murmured, gently. ‘‘Oh! be my friend, or I shall not answer for myself!” Quickly he vanished down into the street, and I fled in the gathering gloom back to the house. } The ruby firelight alone filled the drawing-room with a somber light, funereal and uncertain; my sister’s figure, CORNUCG OOO S (©)