The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 262: what you’re looking at

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

HENRIETTA LEYDEN 945 “No, signora,’’ Henrietta hastened to exclaim, ‘‘ I am not afraid of having offended you, for you have spoken kindly to me,’ she added, in a lower voice and with a more deliberate tone, ‘‘ and it is so seldom — so very seldom — that any one speaks kindly to me.”’ Angela Vivaldi’s heart was melted by the poor girl’s words and manner, and also by the melancholy look which, with her soft blue eyes, Henrietta bent upon the brilliant danseuse; and turning around to her lady’s-maid, who was in attendance, Angela motioned her to shut the door, near the threshold of which Henrietta was still lingering. “ Now sit down,’ continued Signora Vivaldi, taking the oirl’s hand, and literally compelling her to occupy the chair to which she led her; for though they were both dancers, yet, as the reader has seen, the ballet has its aristocracy, and while poor Henrietta was in the lowest plebeian rank of the corps, Signora Vivaldi occupied the highest patrician eminence, and therefore the former felt as timid and bashful in the presence of the latter as a milliner’s apprentice when waiting upon a duchess. ‘“ Now tell me why you were weeping,’ resumed Angela Vivaldi; “has something annoyed you? Even now your heart is full, and you are sobbing. Maria,” she added, turning to her lady’s-maid, ‘““ give her a glass of wine — she is unwell.” Maria, who was a good-natured, steady, respectable woman, midway between thirty and forty years of age, hastened to place a decanter of wine and some biscuits upon the table; then filling a glass, she handed it to Henrietta, saying, “‘ Take this, my poor child, it will do you good.” Miss Leyden raised the glass to her lips, and was about to sip the wine, for she did indeed feel faint and ill, but at that same instant the idea flashed across her that if her poor mother had but the single glass of wine which she now held in her hand, it would cheer her — it would do her good. And as for that plate of cakes, how the poor girl would have liked to take some of them home to her little brother! Suddenly bursting forth into a fresh paroxysm of grief, she put the untasted glass down upon the table, and then, unable to prevent herself from giving full vent to the anguish which had now fairly broken down all the last remaining barriers which had hitherto kept it pent up, she covered her face with her two small thin hands and sobbed bitterly. COnNIEOOOKS (CO)