The Widowed Bride — page 144: what you’re looking at

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

> _ ml. Ji) di ese al ». 4 THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 135 pretty fingers were scorched, and she was forced to throw the three-cornered bit of charred paper, which was all that remained of the epistle, into the fender. ‘So much for that!’ said Rena, her eyes sparkling like those of a mischievous child. ‘‘Her ladyship-will probably learn not to make a servant of me again. Now let us wait and see how events develop themselves. What avery lucky thing it is for the success of my plot that old Lady St. Bur- goyne hasn’t seen Lady Blanche Arden since she was ten years old. We do look alike, people say—and now I must try my skill as an amateur actress.” | : The Duchess of St. Burgoyne was one of those ladies who are chronically, habitually, and incorrigibly behind time. She never reached a steamboat landing or a railway station in season. She looked upon time asa runaway, whom it was hopeless to try to overtake. She had not reached St. George’s chapel at the celebration of her own wedding until — half the guests had gone away in despair—she was so behind _timeat her son’s christening that the bishop lost all patience, and she reached Paris just too late to attend her own father’s funeral, just twenty years ago. Consequently the Duchess of St. Burgoyne, who had fully intended to be in London on Monday afternoon did not arrive there until Tuesday morning. ‘‘People didn’t use to be in such a hurry when I was a girl?’ said she. ‘‘However, I’m very glad I am here. I wouldn’t have missed presenting Edith Glenhampton’s girl for anything. Do you think I ought to call there first, Bal- four? or do you suppose she'll be all ready?” he Marquis of Balfour, her grace’s eldest son, dubiously submitted that there would not be time. “Oh, there’s plenty of time,” said the Duchess of St. Burgoyne. ‘There always was time, according to her grace’s theory and never in her practice. ‘‘However, I don’t know that it’s necessary, and one does feel tired after that racket- Ing railway journey up. So Danesberry shall bring me tea, and I’ll have a nap before I begin to dress.” Lhe Duchess of St. Burgoyne in her brown traveling dress looked as unlike the preconceived idea people generally have of a duchess as the actors in real life are dissimilar to the knights and ladies of a three-volume novel. She was a tall, thin old lady, with gray hair, a hooked nose, and an eye _ blue and keen as a falcon’s; and her garb, as she sat there Gomicbooks:co m