The Widowed Bride — page 98: what you’re looking at

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

THE WIDOWED BRIDE, — 89 chevelure, with the broad braids drooping behind her ears, and a white japonica, which the maid summoned a servant to cut from the greenhouse, nestling among them, while two or three long, silky curls rippled over her shoulders on either side. Her blue silk dress, trimmed with white lace, was exceedingly becoming to her, and her fair, white shoul- ders gleamed like pearl from the white lace shawl which Marienne had festooned over one arm and under the other, while the little slippers made her foot look even smaller than its natural proportions. “Ts there anything more I can do before my Lady Blanche comes?” Marienne asked, with polite deference. ‘‘Nothing more,” Rena answered. ‘‘You may go now, Marienne.” : The French maid had hardly closed the door behind her when Rena sprang to her feet and bounded across the room with all the girlish gayety and abandon she had perforce re- pressed during the presence of the trim little servitress. She turned round and round in the circle of mirrors, bursting into dignified smiles in the happy consciousness of her own beauty. “T never looked half so pretty before!’ she thought. “Oh, if I could only have a French maid to dress me always!” Lady Blanche came in presently, dressed in simple white, with roses in her hair, and turquoise ornaments. ‘‘How lovely you look, dear Rena,” she said. ‘‘Nature has made a mistake inus. You ought to be the earl’s daughter instead of I!’ - £*Nonsense!” said Rena, twining her arms about her friend’s waist, but with a pretty consciousness of her own bright, flower-like beauty, nevertheless, as they went down stairs to join Lady Glenhampton in the west drawing- rooms. Almost as they entered the apartment, a tall footman ina livery of brown and gold, with varnished pumps, glistening white silk stockings and a powdered head, as if he were prematurely old, appeared at an opposite threshold, an- nouncing in a studiously lowered tone the words: “Dinner is served, my lady!” “Unfortunately,” said Lady Glenhampton, turning to her young companion with a smile, ‘‘we have no gentleman to escort us to dinner to-night. Ernest has written that he (eo) Eomicbooks