At a Girl's Mercy, or, The Fortunes of War — page 97: what you’re looking at

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

86 AT A GIRL'S MERCY. geance upon no matter how many innocent heads in order to reach those they held responsible for their drafting. She knew there was much more than her father told her, for now she was watching the papers, not only for news of the armies, but for all the home news she could find, the daily rising ele- ment of hatred felt by the lower classes for the laws that sent them unwilling fighters into the ranks, and their efforts, so far unsuccessful, of attempts to break the rules by brute force, and free the men from the hard lines they were forced into. She knew how the city was watching for the final out- break that would have to come and ke quelled be- fore order could in any sense be established again, and she knew of how the very heart of the city was ready for the worst, but with the defenses somewhat weakened by the drain of the war and the need of men elsewhere, the commanders outside never dreaming of what was threatening the home walls. - “Are you sure you are very careful, papa?’ Nan asked presently, smoothing caressingly the hand over one of her hands on her father’s knee. The lamp-light was very soft over her uplifted face, and the curls tossed by her reckless fingers in her per- plexity. ‘‘You are sure you do your very best to keep posted on these threatened outbreaks? You are where you might not know of them until you were shut off and unable to help defend the city, or save your own life.”’ ‘“You’re not to worry about me, Nan,’’ her father said, quietly, but with an authority she had seldom heard during the last few years. The earnestness only deepened in her face as she said, quite as gravely as he had spoken: “How can I help worrying, papa? Here you are Eomicbooks.com