At a Girl's Mercy, or, The Fortunes of War — page 48: what you’re looking at

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

AT A GIRL’S MERCY. 37 she might see what seemed to her she could not bear to see, yet not daring to lay it aside unread, when it might hold the secret of how much to her. Day aiter day she went over the same anxious search, thankful each day that gave no sadder news than the long list—always, it seemed to her, a long list— of those who had fallen or were missing. Going down the garden walk now, she held the ‘paper in her hands, scarcely daring to open it, feel- ing that another blow would surely crush her. She heard the door-bell ring with its muffled tongue that startled her by its strangeness, but she could not 20 in just then, no matter who had called; she must have a few minutes to recover herself ; She must breathe the air—the air was what she needed—the air of the sweet old garden with the flowers around her —Frank’s flowers and Charlie’s. They lifted up their faces to her like old friends; they soothed and rested her with their sweetness and their si- lence. ~ “Do I intrude, Nan?” asked a familiar voice, and She turned with a feeling of restfulness and glad- ness to the old friend who would give her cheer and courage by his courage. “Oh, Captain Travers!’’ she cried, meeting him with outstretched hand, her face lighting with pleasure. “Indeed, this is good of you, when you start to-morrow. I wish I were going with you as a brother soldier.’’ ‘I don’t doubt it,’’ he said, laughing, and his laugh was good to hear. ‘‘I don’t doubt it, Nan, but that is no reason why you should give me my title here. But if you were in battle, it would take a short charge to make you General Courtland for bravery and tact. Oh, yes, you look innocent enough, but GComicboo Ss) (E(@) m