The Widowed Bride — page 92: what you’re looking at

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

‘THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 83 CHAPTER XI, ‘* LADY BLANCHE’S HOME, _ The graduation passed off, as all graduations do, with - the usual routine of music, speech- making, bouquets, and - compliments, and on the following day the scholars ex- _ changed affectionate adieus, departed, and soon Hartford Lodge was deserted. “How beautiful the country is, dear Blanche! I have seen pictures with just such purple hills, and bending skies, and little streams glimmering through the woods. Oh, I could dream on forever in such a spot as this!” Rena Percival’s cheek was glowing, and her beautiful face lighted up with the enthusiasm of the moment, as, with Lady Blanche Arden beside her, she leaned back among the _ satin cushions of the elegant landau which had been sent to the railway station to meet the two girls. _ And what are all these people doing in the fields?” went on Rena, leaning forward, while the evening breeze lifted the tiny ringlets from her forehead and fluttered the strings of her white straw hat. ‘‘Oh, Blanche, see how picturesque they look, moving about like ‘the figures in a panorama!” ‘They are haymakers,” said Blanche. ‘‘Yes, I suppose they are picturesque, although I never thought about it be- fore; you know we see them here every year, and I suppose custom has familiarized me to the sight.” _ As she spoke the words the gray, stone tower and steep, ‘ivy-covered roof of St. Hilda’s Church came in view round a curve in the road, its ancient buttresses and stone copings gilded by the lone light of the declining sun, and like a sudden electric flash the scene of ten years ago rose up be- _ fore Rena Percival’s eyes—the serene Kent landscape, the _ sunset flooding all the ‘wooded dales and meadow slopes, and _ the far-off voices of the toilers mingling with the song of birds and the rustle of ivy leaves around the old gray church. _ Her cheeks burned, her eyes glittered with troubled light, ' as with a vague sort of double life—a consciousness of min- _ gled past and present, she seemed to see the white-haired old | man sitting in the church porch, with his crossed hands 4 ‘ t ca ar Ce fe re oP ry Loe ee Bie daly: 2 ec EG ahh Seas cay oe oa ac a *\, eae ore et : t Ms 7 baad \ IY as ig he wa a a [es * e 7 ‘y 4 , , 4 - ‘e 4 aU oe “S (Ge) Gomicboo