The Wreck of the South Pole and Other Strange Tales — page 175: what you’re looking at

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

168 Written in Water. lighted only by the last rays of the autumn sun and by the fitful gleams of the fire in the grate. Turning his head, he saw, standing in the bright glow of the evening sun, the “fair girl” who had come to interrupt his quiet life. He arose and offered his hand to Gracie, and after a few words of welcome seated her in an easy chair opposite the other side of the chimney. While listening to the story of her journey he watched her face closely. “She is a fair girl,” he said to himself. “A fair girl, and that is all.” He was right. Gracie was neither beautiful nor hand- some—not even pretty. But she was fair to look upon, and a certain grace made her fascinating. And there was in her manner something that said in later years she would be very dignified. The days passed quickly. Leslie was engaged upon his great work and Gracie was left much to herself. John Brent proved a good source of amusement, and the two were often seen together, now picking apples in the orchard, now hauling in great pumpkins and squashes and storing them away in the cellar. Later in the winter they sat before the great fireplace in the sitting-room, cracking nuts, roasting apples and drinking cider. In these bouts John told her many a queer story of country life she had been unused to. Still, never a day passed but that she was with Gerald for an hour or so. She would have stayed longer had she not thought that he did not care for her company. She was attracted to the man who was so powerful in (E(o) GOMmIIchbooks