The Widowed Bride — page 179: what you’re looking at

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

170 THE WIDOWED BRIDE. - ation—it seemed as if he were learning more and more of the hidden beauty of her soul. ‘““No woman but yourself, Rena Percival,” he said, ‘‘shall ever be the Marchioness of Balfour. You have owned that you love me—what remains for you but to become my wife?” : ‘The poor glow-worm loves the star—the feeble torch may love the glory of the midday sun, but there the pa- rallel ceases,” she answered, with a melancholy smile. ‘<I did not think ever to have spoken to mortal ears the words that have this day passed my lips, but once spoken they must be forgotten forever. Let me pass, Lord Balfour; our interview is over!” “‘Rena!” he said, although chivalrously obedient to the words of her behest, he had abandoned his clasp of her ice-_ cold hand, ‘‘could you leave me thus be «One day you will thank me for it,” she answered, paus- ing at the sound of his voice, although her touch was alr eady on the handle of the door. ‘‘Hear me but an instant longer,” he pleaded, in accents to which she could not refuse to listen. ‘‘Let us forget the _ pitiful distinctions of birth to which you have alluded, let us remember only that our two hearts were created to thrill responsive, each to the other’s throbs! Rena, my love, my darling, to be your husband will be a greater honor in my eyes than if you were a crowned queen or the daughter of a line of emperors! My mother is prepared to welcome you as a dear and cherished child of her own—my. own life will be desolate and drear without you! Once more, Rena, I beg you to seal my fate, and tell me that you will be mine!” ‘T cannot be your wife!” she uttered, in a low trembling voice. ‘Ts this decision entirely irrevocable?” Sit asl’ And while he stood there, in the fixed rnteney of de- spur, she vanished from his sight. SS GComichboo