Beadle's Dime Novels No. 14 — page 57: what you’re looking at

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

MORE MYSTERY 55 As soon as he could, without rudeness, slip away from his guests, Pennon started and roamed over every foot of the island; he half expected to meet the vision of a fair young ‘girl, as mute as death but as lovely as light, flitting under- neath the shadows, or wandering on the beach. But nothing so unlikely as this occurred. Having searched the groves, he kept along the silvery satid which edged the shore, looking up and down the river with a yearning gaze, as if something were yet to be revealed to. him. Suddenly, something glimmered at his feet; a sunbeam struck it, and it flashed out into thousands of fiery sparkles, He stooped and picked it up—it was the Emerald Necklace! Robinson Crusoe, when he came upon the footprints of the savages in the sand, was hardly more astounded, though not so pleasantly so. Unseen by any but the approving eyes of Mother Nature, he pressed the treasure to his lips, holding it up again and again to assure himself of its identity. Yes! the same—even to the still unmended links, whose feeble hold had been severed by the lightning. Mysterious jewels! ever to play some sad, or strange, or inexplicable part in the drama of life. How came th¢y there? — The gorgeous circlet, flashing in the sunlight, seemed to work upon him a dreamy spell. He thought of the snowy throat they had circled—whose warmth they had felt—whose softness they had kissed—he thought of the lovely sufferer, stricken dumb by that tongue of midnight fire !—how patient she had been—how beautiful in her affliction. Ah! he would have wasted his life in serving her, and making -her mute mis- fortunes more bearable !—but she had gently, but firmly sent him from her. | ‘ Here was evidence in plenty that she had been near—or if not she herself, then the very witches had been! and this was hardly the era of necromancy. : There was something to awaken superstition in the mystic, glowing, wavering flash of the gems. “ How beautiful ! how magnificent!” It was the voice of Rosalie who spoke; she had followed Pennon, weary of the time where he was not, and had found him lost in a dream over the necklace, which he held to’ the rays’ of the declining sun. “It is not possible you have found any thing so rare as this, conmniclsooks.cormn *