The Widowed Bride — page 209: what you’re looking at

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

260 THE WIDOWED BRIDE. ‘My lady’s specially particular about the tower keys,” said Mrs. Wadesleigh; ‘‘and it ain’t for no reason, neither, as I knows on, only we has all of us our ways, and my lady’s dreadful set in hers, as it becomes the Countess of Glen- hampton to be, for fe She stopped, for Miss Clive at that moment returned with the keys in her hand. ‘‘. knew I should find them,” she said, quietly. ‘‘Miss Percival, come.” “And if [ might make bold to haccompany you,” said Mrs. Wadesleigh, ‘‘it might be good hopportunity for me to see as everything wasn’t ruined houtright by moth and mildew, for in my humble hopinion it ain’t no good shuttin’ up rooms away from the sunshine and fresh hair days hin and days hout.” “‘Come if you choose,” said Miss Clive, carelessly. They crossed the court and ascended the narrow spiral stone stair-way that led up to the unused room in the tower, directly above the dreary chamber where Arthur Huns- worth’s corpse had lain years ago, and Antonia Clive fear- lessly turned the key in the creaking wards of the lock and threw open the ancient, oak-paneled door. A gust of confined air, like the unwholesome exhalations of a charnel-house, rushed out upon them. — “The Lord ’ay mercy on us!’said Mrs. Wadesleigh; ‘‘these windows do want hopening the worst way. I’m glad I came up with you, though my hold legs ain’t what they used to be as far as stairs is concerned.” Rena looked round with mingled awe and curiosity, hold- ing, child-like, to Miss Clive’s black dress as she did so, for there was something weird and uncanny about the place. The suite of apartments consisted of one large room, with two smaller ones opening out of it; the floor of dark, waxed wood, was powdered over with fine dust, on which their foot- steps made a labyrinth of tiny tracks, and folds of moth- eaten tapestry fluttered from the walls of the larger apart- ment. A huge chimney-piece, its fire-place inlaid with an- tique china tiles, occupied nearly one end of the room, and the three windows opposite were closely shuttered and draped with curtains of some dark, heavy stuff, which hung in straight, funereal folds from ceiling to floor. As Mrs. Wadesleigh looped back these hangings, unclasped the shutters, and flung wide open the lattices, a stream of cor = comicbooks