José — page 25: what you’re looking at

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

18 JOSE, course of his American journey, a face so replete with feminine loveliness, so expressive of senti- mental and charming grace that he had not been able to banish it from his memory fora week. He had sat opposite this face at a concert in Boston and expressed his admiration, without being able to obtain any further information concerning it from any of his newly-acquired friends. In a state of mental perturbation, such as he had never before experienced, he now took her hand, placed it upon his arm, and proceeded in the direction she had in- dicated, without being able to account to himself how it all happened. “You are not an American, sir. I have seen you somewhere and was told you were not,” she began, when they had passed the hotel. “You appeared to me like a beacon in the hour of distress, here, where I dare not confide inany one. I will explain ina few words.” At this moment a long, shrill whistle sounded in the distance, and she suddenly paused and stood motionless, as if struck by an electric shock. “Merciful heavens, that is the train, and I hoped it would not arrive before dusk! Oh, sir,” she con- tinued, seizing his arm in a nervous way; “do not desert me now. I must confront the enemy or I shall be lost. Call yourself my brother. My name is Mary. What is your name, sir? your name!” she added, in a state of excitement which threatened to communicate itself to the young man. “My name is Henry Baumann, madam; but I beg you to be calm lest you betray yourself. Tell me in brief what you expect me to do, for I see the smoke of the locomotive.” “Nothing, sir, except that you represent yourself (EONMIELOOOLKS (E(0) m