The Widowed Bride — page 136: what you’re looking at

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

« : 7 THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 127 pectation eddying around her, herself lifted as far out of its atmosphere as if she were lying under the shadow of a coffin-lid. ies But all things must come to an end, and s0, in its ap- pointed time, did Captain Hvelyn’s month of absence—the thirty longest days his lady mother had ever known, as it seemed to her. Mr. Alkenard had long returned to his chambers at the ’emple; Lord Vere came and went, and. still Rena Percival staid on at Glenhampton Castle. I can’t spare you yet, dearest,” was Lady Blanche’s coaxing plea whenever she made some faint allusion to tak- ing her departure. ‘‘I should be so lonely without you.” And the red and brown leaves rustled down from walnut, beech, and elm, and the snow-wreaths of early winter came, and the Christmas festivities filled the Castle with gayety, to which the only drawback was the earl’s still protracted absence on the Continent—and Easter followed. The Countess of Glenhampton began to feel as if Rena’s intimacy with her daughter must be broken up at all haz- ards. It had been dangerous at first, before she was ad- mitted to the privileges of an almost acknowledged member of the household—it was trebly perilous now. ‘‘Blanche,” said the countess, at the luncheon table, one glorious March day, as her daughter entered the room a little pale and wearied from a long ramble in the leafless woods with her friend Rena and Lord Vere Temple, ‘‘I have received a letter to-day from my old friend, the Duch- | ess of St. Burgoyne—a letter that interests you somewhat!” “T don’t know how it possibly can, mamma,” said Blanche, laughing, ‘‘as I don’t think I ever saw her grace.” ~ €She has always promised herself the pleasure of present- ing my daughter at court, Blanche, when you were old enough to claim the distinction, and she writes me that there is to be a drawing-room the last of this month.” ‘Does that mean that we are to go up to town, mamma?” ‘‘Would you not like it, my love?” ‘Very much, mamma, if Rena will go too.” “I shall be very happy if: Miss Percival will consent to accompany us to London,” observed Lady Glenhampton, rather icily than otherwise, and Rena, in a few gracefully uttered words, expressed her thanks for the invitation so — grudgingly seconded. , ‘‘T'see how it is,” she thought, smiling at her own reflec COmIEbOookKs:. co m