At a Girl's Mercy, or, The Fortunes of War — page 141: what you’re looking at

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

— 130 AT A GIRL’S MERCY. presently. ‘“‘You know you are at liberty to take one at any time, Miss Nan.” ‘Your horses would break my neck,”’ Nan said. She laughed bitterly, and pushed the flowers with one foot over and over in the dirt. She seemed to have utterly forgotten the note that had fallen with them to the ground. ‘‘You are very kind, Mr. Blake, but I think I will live a little longer.”’ He should not know her heart was dead. He should never know life was dead for her in all the years that might come. He left her by and by. That the news had wounded her more than any word or action of hers should show, he knew full well. That she would never allow herself to show any sign of feeling in his presence, had he not had sufficient proof? But he would win her. He had set his heart on doing that, and he would move heaven and earth to accomplish it. It was not merely revenge for her scorning him that now gave him stronger determination, but the knowledge that he loved her for herself—for her ten- der face and gentle womanliness and dainty ways. Even the crushing of the flowers under her feet had a grace that could belong to no one but herself. He loved her, and he would win her. There was more than one way, if one should fail. He strode down the clover field with a firm step, and held his head as proudly as though he had already fought and won. And poor little Nan sat down again when he had left her, and buried her face in her two hands, though not a tear did she shed. She had turned to stone, she said to herself over and over. Noone with a warm heart could bear that news and still have only the feeling that she was dead, that there comicbooks.com — ah eC - = ee ° » a eer