That Girl of Johnson's — page 48: what you’re looking at

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

THAT GIRL OF JOHNSON’S, — 37 CHAPTER VIII. THE STRAYED COW. Dolores sat in the door-way waiting for her father’s re- turn from the tavern. He had been to the house while she was over the mountain, and had his supper. She herself had eaten nothing, for she had no appetite in spite of her walk over the mountain. The moonlight was luminous; the opposite mountain was touched with a misty glory up on the peaks; below were mysterious darkness and phantom shreds of gray mist floating up from the valley. The pines on the bank beside her whispered mysteriously, their fragrance filling the air with a subtle sense of strength and healing. Their voices were familiar to the girl from childhood; to-night they sounded strange and full of meaning. ‘She was quite idle, her hands in their old listless attitude in her lap, her dark head resting against the unpainted door-post, her grave face and thoughtful eyes raised to the heavens. The moonlight falling across her face defined it clear and perfect as marble; upon the clean bare floor behind her lay her shadow long and dark. The night was silent; the distant sound of rude singing from the tavern died away; the lights went out one after another in the long, low houses. Dolores began to wonder vaguely why her father did not come. Midnight had passed ; the hours ticked away one by one on the big clock in the corner; the moon hung round and golden above the mountain peaks in the west; in the east a streak of whiter light ®ppesred, broadened and deepened. The girl’s shadow disappeared from the floor; it lay in front of her on the door-stone. A cock crowed shrilly; another took up the call; many replied. The moonlight waned ; the moon grew pale up in Gcomicbooks (E(@)