At a Girl's Mercy, or, The Fortunes of War — page 28: what you’re looking at

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

AT A GIRI’S MERCY. 17 sharp as your words are, sweet friend. And now, perforce, I must leave you, as the hours are lengthen- ing. This one request I make’’—she was uncon- sciously stroking the delicate sprays of Canterbury bells in a gray pitcher near her hand—‘‘and see you obey to the letter, else,’ and he tapped lightly but significantly the gleaming revolver. ‘You are to give me your word that you will not attempt to leave this room to release your parents, or give the alarm in any way, until the sun has risen clear of the hills yonder. I warn you for your own good. You are brave, but we would know of it should you break your promise, and it will be at peril of your life to doso. Pardon my stringent measures, and grant me a simple request that does not at all affect your safety.”’ He laughed and bent before her in deep courtesy, saying, with great humility: “May I take with me a spray of these flowers, madam—these biue bells that are the hue of your eyes and the color to be worn for success? I would take with me some souvenir of this meeting !”’ He disengaged the most-perfect of the sprays, and a strange smile stirred his drooping mustache as he turned to leave her presence. She bent in mocking courtesy in reply to his, a brilliant smile on her face. ‘Sir, I bid thee farewell. Every request of thine shall be complied with, not because itis a wish of mine, but because it is thy will. Indeed,” she ad- ded, and the smile deepened until for the moment the man was dazzled, ‘‘I would grant you much more than that, sir, to be rid of you.”’ But when the door closed behind him the sweet color died from her face, and the light from her eyes, comicbooks (E(@) m