The Widowed Bride — page 137: what you’re looking at

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

OME THE WIDOWED BRIDE. tion in the opposite mirror. ‘Her ladyship wants to inter- rupt the serene current of Captain Ernest’s captivation, to say nothing of any interest Lord Vere may be beginning to. feel in poor little me! Doesshe imagine I do not seethrough | her? Well, London is quite as good a field for my campaign as Glenhampton Castle. Ive had a delightful winter here, and now I mean to have an equally charming spring in London. By the time that is over I shall probably have some definite plans of my own, which will relieve my lacy countess of my unwelcome presence.” These fancies passed rapidly through her mind as she sat toying with her wine-glass, while the others were gayly dis- cussing the probabilities of a brilliant season during the ap- proaching spring. Blanche alone was silent, she had drooped a little during the last few weeks, and Lady Glenhampton’s vigilant eye was quick to detect the change. ‘She is not well,” she thought. ‘‘Can it be possible that she sees how surely Vere Temple’s fickle heart is drifting away from her? She must have change, at all events, and this London plan will make a most opportune diversion in her favor.” ‘lve a great mind to go up to London with you,” said Lord Vere. ‘‘If you will allow me to become your escort, Lady Glenhampton, I can easily write to my friends in Not- tinghamshire, and put off my promised visit there for a few days.” “By no means,” said Lady Glenhampton, with an earn- estness that was quite genuine; “I can allow no engage- ments to be broken on my account. Dufour is all the es- cort we need, and the house in Grosvenor square is all ready to receive us at any moment. Perhaps, later in the season, you may join us in London. By which time,” Lady Glenhampton added, to herself, ‘I shall have taken specially good care to get rid of this aggravating little siren, Miss Percival.” ase What a blessed thing it is that our thoughts are invisible to those who listen to our honeyed words. Rena’s next letter written to her sister Alice contained an enthusiastic description of the palatial residence in Grosve- nor square, whose splendors rivaled those of the old castle in Kent. _ The inspiring air of London, with the additional stimu- lant of a prospective presentation at the Court of St. James, Eomicbooks co