Beadle's Dime Novels No. 127: Bald Eagle — page 31: what you’re looking at

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

DORA. 88 upon. the aid of strangers for protection and the méans of pre- Serving life. The brief obsequies of mother and son were soon over, and in a little space poor Dora and her misfor- ' tunes ceased to engage interest amongst Seainiat each of Whom had their own Cares. When Buld Eagle, as we aye seen, had cut the bonds that had tortured, Dora dropped into a heavy slumber, a Slumber so deep, that it seemed more like death than nature’s Sweet restorer. She never knew how tenderly the noble.sav- age unclasped her white arms, and lifted her like.a lily, broken and crushed, and laid her upon the bed, and how, day. by day, he prepared the asia food, that kept death from claim- ing his prey. She would open her large, blue eyes, and fix them with an anxious scrutiny upon his face; with pale hands holding back her long snowy hair from her forehead, and with wistful €agerness strive to recall those painful memories, which, like flitting phantoms, eluded her grasp; then the noble savage jJaid her poor head softly back upon the pillow, and stroking her forehead soothed her to forgetfulness. | Thus weeks and months passed away, and time, which had brought back health to the cheek of Dora, failed to re- Store to her the bright. fancies, and lucid thoughts that had Once made her like the vision of a poet’s dream, an embodi- ment of grace, intellect and beauty. She was tender and. docile, and a stranger might never have supposed she had ever been other than what she now appeared. Thus, in the stress of the times, the inhabitants of the re- gion remoyed to the mountains or to the more thickly-settled parts of the country. Many had sought the protection of One or the other of the contending armies, leaving Dora, as We have. seen, in her ruined home, guarded by the faithful Ramapaugh. Nearly a year passed away, and now health had a ir ut no roses.ever again bloomed upon the face of Dora Gurney, * “Ter cheek! oh, call it fair, not pale!’ Was colorless as marble, and an unearthly brightness of the eyes, coupled with the affluent hair, which rippled in snowy folds to her knee, gave her the appearance of. some denizen of supernal spheres, rather than an inhabitant of earth, comicbooks.conn