The Widowed Bride — page 147: what you’re looking at

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

138 “THE WIDOWED BRIDE. ~ duchess in her heart, for she had not ventured to ask the surly coachman for the carriage, trusting to that luck which, as it seemed, stanchly befriended her. “Don’t you think she’s very like her father, Balfour?” asked the duchess when they were snugly ensconced in the roomy old family coach. ‘But I forgot—you never saw Adelbert Arden as he used to be before he married Edith! Of course you know all about your father’s first marriage, — my dear? It was a sad affair, and your father never has seemed quite the same man since. Perhaps you don’t like to talk about it—well, well, I can’t blame you—these family tragedies are not always pleasant topics of conversation?” And lady St. Burgoyne relapsed into a sort of pensive silence, while Lord Balfour talked pleasantly to the beauti- ful young girl. _Rena’s heart beat high, as amid shoutings, tumult, and confusion their carriage took its place in the long stream of equipages which filled Pall Mall, and seemed to crawl along ata snail’s pace, while the pavement was lined with the curious faces of the staring mob. At length they reached St. James’ Palace, and Lord Balfour led his mother beneath the court portals and through the stately entrance hall, with Rena following, between lines of brilliantly attired guards and solemn-looking gentlemen, each of whom seemed to have the whole responsibility of their majesty’s personal safety on his own individual mind. The drawing-room upon this particular occasion was un- usually crowded—so, at least, the Duchess of St. Burgoyne said—and it was some time before they were able to reach the Throne room, where stood the Prince and Princess of Wales surrounded by the officers of the household, the ladies and gentlemen in waiting, and the high dignitaries of the realm. As they approached the presence, in their turn, Rena felt bewildered and terrified by her own audacity—she was half-tempted to cry out, ‘‘Pardon me! forgive me! I am not Lady Blanche Arden, but only poor little Rena Per- cival! Let me go and hide myself away from human sight!” And then athrill of mingled terror and delight eddied through her veins as she found herself, she knew not how, courtesying low in response to the gracious greeting of the heir of England and the sweet-faced Princess Alexandra, | and then she was somehow passed on to make room fora .S -comicboo com Ju ,. ae ety