Beadle's Dime Novels No. 14 — page 59: what you’re looking at

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

YIZEW FROM A WINDOW. oa ae shout of admiration burst from the crowd of passengers upon her decks—almost all of them being out to enjoy the beauty of the day—at sight of the strange and beautiful little vessel which belonged to the castle. Their shout was answered back with one as merry, if not so great, and there was a flutter of handkerchiefs among the ladies on either side. What possessed Pennon ? he had started up so recklessly; as almost to upset the boat, and was waving his handkerchief wildly, as long as the steamer could be discerned. Then he sat down silently, saying not a word, till the bark was moored in the fairy grotto. CHAPTER VIII. UNDER THE CATALPAS. I know you, Clara Vere de Vere ; You pine among your halls and towers, The languid ligne of your proud eyes ‘Is wearied of the rolling hours. In glowing health, with boundless wealth, ut sickening of a vague disease, You knew so ill to deal with time, You needs must play such pranks as these. TENNYSON. - Tue long hours of a hot summer afternoon were almost in- tolerable to Rosalie Sloane. Not because of the heat and Janguor of the atmosphere, for she flourished in the sum- * mer-time like a magnificent white lily ; but this afternoon was wearisome to her, because she was disappointed and despond- ing. Pennon was walking up and down an avenue of catal- pas, as if there were no other person in existance except him- self—she could see. him from her window. Every time she crossed ‘and recrossed the length of her apartment, she would pause by the fluttering curtain, and steal a glance at the form pacing slowly forward and back in the shadow of the trees, At the opposite end of her room was an object equally interesting at which she also took a lingering glance at every turn of her solitary promenade—her own image, revealed in the tall pier- comiiclooks.corn