The Widowed Bride — page 30: what you’re looking at

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

THE WIDOWED BRIDE, MOY tae CHAPTER IIL. WHO WAS IT? The starlight shining through the antique latticed panes of the lodge casements blanched a square upon the floor, where, resting on one pillow, their couch naught softer than the rude boards, the two sisters lay, twined in each other’s arms, and sleeping the heavy, trance-iike sleep of utter weariness, while around them lurked the awful shadows of death and danger, drawing nearer with every instant. No eyes, save those of the tender, brooding stars above, and perchance now and then astartled deer or solitary fawn lifting its head from the dew-sprinkled grass, beheld the gliding motion of white draperies, the momentary gleam of locks of tawny gold, as a tall, slender figure hurried through the loneliest nooks of Glenhampton Park. Was it a dream, or a yision, or the vapory mist-wreaths rising up from the glen assuming momentarily a shape akin to that of humanity? Little Rena, roused by what seemed to her the stealthy sound of footsteps, started in her slum- bers, and half opened her eyes, to behold—a strange contin- uation of the troubled vagaries of her dreams!—a white face, with wild, glittering eyes, bent over her own, so close that the long, fair hair touched her cheek. For one instant only, and then it was gone; and Rena, starting to her feet, shrieked aloud in the extremity of her childish terror: “‘Grandpapa! grandpapa! Oh, wake, Allie, wake! I am so frightened! ‘I‘here’s some one here close to us! Allie! grandpapa! wake!” * x + * * * * Nor were Rena’s slumbers the only ones disturbed upon that eventful night. Lhe ordinary sleep of the Earl of Glenhampton was light, with long intervals of feverish wakefulness; but he had rested well and soundly beyond his usual wont, and was still sleep- — ing in the dark hours preceding the dawn, when his valet sounded a noisy peal upon his chamber door, ‘‘Wake, my lord!” he cried; ‘‘wake! Fire! the castle’s a-fire!” ‘Hold your tongue, Linley!” bawled the husky voice of the old steward. ‘‘It ain’t no more a-fire than you be—no, €O Gomicbooks