The Widowed Bride — page 65: what you’re looking at

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

56 THE WIDOWED BRIDE. the Wa kenbam Refuge, the visiting day for the a pr tronesses, and long before nine o'clock every child was washed, combed, and brushed into shining cleanliness, with fresh, gray gowns, smoothly ironed check aprons, and neatly blacked shoes, and ranged in rows upon their stiff- backed seats along the school-room. Rena grew very ’ tired, and twisted herself back and forth, while Alice sat in mute awe, her little hands folded just as she had been bidden, and her cherry lips slightly apart. The visitors had been expected at nine oclock, but it was some time after ten when Mrs. Mar, flushed and nervous in her black silk dress, ushered in three ladies, elegantly at- tired, bringing a scent of ottar of roses with them, and all talking at once! ‘“That’s the Honorable Mrs. Heneage in the white shawl, fe whispered one of the girls to Rena, ‘‘and Lady Barrowfield has got the long yaller ear-drops. Ain’t she dressed beauti- ful, though!’ Mrs. Heneage, a showy, handsome lady of about thirty, advanced into the room, laughing, talking and looking around her at the girls as if they were rows of tulips, and she an amateur gardener! For theidea that these soberly attired solemn-faced creatures, could be human like herself scarcely seemed to enter into the brain, which was sur- mounted -by such an elegant French bonnet! ‘“T do think they grow scrawnier every day!” said she, _ elevating her pink-gloved hands. ‘My dear Mrs. Mar, why is it that our poorer classes are so frightfully plain!” Mrs. Mar looked embarrassed. Lady Barrowfield, a surly pale- looking lady whispered: “Don’t speak so loud, Helen, they will hear you!”. “Oh, they won’t understand!” said Mrs. Heneage. ‘I~ never saw any one yet, who—my goodness gracious—" she suddenly exclaimed, stopping in front of Rena “‘this girl 1s pretty. Who is she, and where did you pick her up?” ~ The Honorable Mrs. Heneage was quite right for once. Little Rena looked marvelously fair and delicate with her dark curls and soft hazel eyes, and the sweet pea-like bloom upon her cheeks, which deepened into carmine as the hon- _orable lady put up her eye-glass, as though she was staring at some choice picture. — “Sir John Lavely sent her here,” Mrs. Mar answered; “and her name is Rena Mordaunt!” Bis