At a Girl's Mercy, or, The Fortunes of War — page 62: what you’re looking at

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

i AT A GIRI’S MERCY. 51 ‘Poor, dear papa, Helen! What would he do—what would any of us do, if——’’ The thought was terrible, and she was incapable of finishing the sentence, but Helen understood, and for answer stooped and kissed the girl’s quivering red mouth. “And now, good-by, Nan,’’ she said, bravely. ‘Ned told me he has said his good-by. He would not come with me to-night,’ she was smoothing over and over one of the-tiny curls around her finger, that fell so bewitchingly on the fair fore- head of her friend. ‘“‘You shall hear from me as regularly as circumstances will permit, but you must make allowances for all the letters you do not receive. I know how much you will wish to hear, and so far as possible you shall not be disappointed. Keep up a brave heart, dear, and all will be well. You shall pray for me, and I will pray for you, Nan, and if——’’ her voice, too, broke for a moment in its brave utterance; but she took up the werds again steadily enough. ‘“‘If either of your brothers come to me, Nan, be sure I will treat them well. And remember, I, too, have a brother in the war.’’ “Yes,’’ Nan said, ashamed of her tears before this girl’s brave soul. “Yes, I know; and I leave them allin your hands, Helen Travers. See that you do not violate the trust. ’’ And then, after a silence, a whispered word or two, these two daughters of the Union had un- - clasped their hands, and parted, who knows, save God, for how long, nor what should befall each ere another meeting in the silent, shadowy hall. | (ao nayicel eyeye) <a ee) m