At a Girl's Mercy, or, The Fortunes of War — page 84: what you’re looking at

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

AT A GIRL’S MERCY. 73 lowing the oars of their boat? Ay, it was a night that would take them within its shadows, and shield them with its mist and wailing wind voices. Jim was standing close in under Lola’s window, trying to still the beating of his heart that he might better listen, almost fearful of the consequences as he struck the stone wall of the house sharply with his stick, that he carried for self defense as well as support; but the wind wailed and swung the creak- ing boughs of the trees through the mist, and deadened the sound of his stroke into a sharp brush- ing of a bough against the house, and though the house was still, no one caught the suspicious sound. He waited breathlessly for what would follow. If Lola should not hear, or if she, too, mistook the noise, what could be done? Or if she were not ready, or thought they were not going because of the darkness, or if she had been discovered—— He dared go no further in his thoughts; the con- sequences of discovery would be so terrible he could not bring himself to think of that, and he was pretty positive she loved him well enough not to give him up at thelast. She was no coward, he knew; she would dare a regiment of soldiers, if need be, without flinching; still, waiting there in the night, with the ghostly darkness around him, and the silence that is full of sound, with the chance at any moment of being detected, many thoughts would come crowding in upon him, robbing him of his peace of mind. There was no sign nor sound at the window above, and Lola should have recognized his presence in some way. He had been waiting some time, and was growing decidedly impatient; it was very un- kind of Lola, to say the least; was she not his sweet- comicbooks