Beadle's Dime Novels No. 131 — page 92: what you’re looking at

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

96 _ HE WRECKER'S DAUGHTER. a richer color into her cheeks, and She loved its rude fingers in* her hair, blawing it about her saucily. Her hands and face tingled with the spray which ever and anon showered them. © With the crimson folds of her dress clinging to the piece of wreck, and the ite foam curdling about her, one, at a distance, might have'misfaken the bit of brilliant color for a bird dip- ping to its ocean bath. The thunder of the surf affected licr more deeply than any strain of music. It seemed speaking, in a mighty voice, strange and solemn secrets of nature and space, too vast for mortal comprehension. A long time she sat and listened. Suddenly, some one ’ spoke, close at hand. She had been conscious of no approach, had felt herself as isolated as Crusoe on his island, until the voice asked: ~ “ Will you share your seat with me, or must I keep my dis- tance ?” Arthur Wade! She turned to find him, with a fishing-rod in his hand, knee-deep in the water, standing by her side. For a moment she was silent; her heart was in her throat; _ she could not have spoken had she tried, and all answer _ escaped her; it seemed to her those eyes must have pierced _ through and seen that she was thinking of him, longing for _ him, in that hour of selfcommunion. _ * Are you, then, really only a myth, that you always rise up out of the sea to startle me?” she said, when she got breath. “Tam flesh-and-blood enough to feel the need of a ie tnten ektemore 1 walked over from the iF anciudeseiyltvaenecatn ania You'do ant tell me that you expect to fish, in the present state of the waters ?” “ Well I am hardly so fresh as that, though Joe acknowl- — seasoning. ee *t afford tO throw it away.” — - id you stop at the cabin?” - te the aightet iden that you were stilt on