The Widowed Bride — page 82: what you’re looking at

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

THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 73 _A tall, gipsy-looking girl of sixteen or thereabouts was crouched on the sofa at the farthest end of the apartment, her face buried in the cushions, and her shoulders swaying to and fro with arestless rocking motion, which kept a sort of time to her sobs. “Go away!” she exclaimed, with an irritated motion of the head, as Rena placed her hand on her forehead. ‘‘I hate you all! I hate school! I won’t stay here!” “Yes, you will,” said Rena, sitting down beside her and taking the disheveled head to rest on her own shoulder. “It is nice, and you will like it after a little while. All the girls are homesick at first.” The young girl made an effort to escape, but Rena’s clasp, though very tender, was firm, and she let her wearied head fall once more on the kind shoulder, while the tears streamed fast over her flushed cheeks, ‘“That’s right!’ soothed Rena, with a soft, magnetic mo- tion of her cool palms over the throbbing forehead. ‘‘Cry as much as you please—it will make you feel better.” ‘-Were you homesick when you first came here?” asked the girl, lifting her heavy, tear-swollen eyes to Rena’s face. ‘All girls are,” was Rena’s evasive reply; “but they goon get over it, and you'll be sure to be happy here—every one is so-kind.” “Have you been here long?” ‘“Nine years. ” Lady Blanche looked surprised. “Ah! But you have no mother?” “No,” said Rena, sadly; ‘‘I have only a sister, and she is here with me.” ‘“You are very pretty,” said Lady Blanche, with an inno- cent frankness that was utter! y devoid of anything appr oach- ing to flattery. ‘‘What is your name?” “Rena Percival. Now lie still, and let me wet your hair with cologne. How hot your for ehead feels.” Lady Blanche lay quiet with the stillness of exhaustion, which must necessarily succeed such a tempest of emotion as had shaken her slender frame during the last hour or two, but her hand closed with nervous pressure over Rena’s wrist, and there was something piteously clinging in the way her head nestled against the elder girl’s shoulder. Miss Har tford came in presently on tiptoe, Laer m Gomicbooks.co