Penny Dreadfuls, 1890 · page 17 of 394
Stella Rosevelt — page 17: what you’re looking at
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ON THE ATLANTIC. II covered with a crimson hood, so that not much could be seen of her, save the fair, pale face, with its sad, appealing blue eyes, which looked out from beneath masses of shining golden ringlets that had strayed from her hood and lay upon her white forehead. She had a sensitive mouth, a pretty, rounded chin, a small, straight nose, and altogether, had she possessed some- thing of color and less of sadness in her face, would have been considered wondrously fair to look upon. This little waif, with her child-like countenance, her pathetic eyes, and her patient, uncomplaining spirit, was traveling alone, There was not a soul on board that vessel whom she had ever seen before the day of sailing. An orphan—her father, and the only relative on whom she could depend, had died just three months previous—she was going to the United States, to some distant connections who had consented to take her until she was of age and teach her to earn her own living. . | She had been put in the care of the captain by the people with whom she had been staying since her father’s death, and he was to deliver her to the strangers to whom she was going. Some strange magnetism had attracted her toward the old gentleman with the white hair and beard of whom we have spoken, and near to whom she was now Sitting. She had hovered about him ever since the first day of the voyage, not in an obtrusive way, but as if she liked to be near him—as if there were something trustworthy and protective about him. Perhaps one reason for this was that her seat had been next his at table—while they had been able to sit at the table—and once or twice, when she could not attract the attention of the - steward, ke had handed her what she wanted, and helped her bountifully to fruit when otherwise she would have been neglected. When the storm came on with such violence that those not COMNICLOOOKS: CO