Beadle's Dime Novels No. 14 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

6 THE EMERALD NECKLACE. orchard stretched away to wheat fields ripening between that and the hills. The size of the sturdy apple-trees, as well as the moss upon the roof of the dwelling, and the sedate and tranquil air of all around, proclaimed the antiquity of the place. Pennon stood a moment to admire the scene, with his hand upon the latch of the gate. Around by the porch the grass was worn with the trampling of feet, and an old-fashioned well-sweep, with an “old oaken bucket” attached, and smooth stones about the well-curb, looked not the least antiqne and peaceful of the accessories. The thirsty traveler longed to drink from the bucket’s brim, especially when he saw a young girl trip lightly forth, and swing it down into the cool depths of the well. He could not see her face, and she did not ob- serve him. Quickly and gracefully she drew the bucket up, peering down as if at her own features mirrored in its wayes. Suddenly, while he paused by the gate, she uttered a low scream, the pole remained stationary in her bands, and she - seemed transfixed by some unaccountable sight of terror. Pennon flung open the gate, and hurried through the yard to her side. Just as he reached her she burst into a light, silvery laugh. She was holding up against the warm light of the descending sun a string of the richest emeralds, which glowed and sparkled as they hung tremulous from her hand. “T thought it was a green serpent when I first saw it,” she said, apologetically, to the stranger, whom she at that instant perceived, “and I am so afraid of them. I shouldn’t have screamed, if it had not have taken me so by surprise.” “You haye fished up good fortune,” he replied, gazing into her beautiful, earnest face. “That string of emeralds must be very costly. How did they come inthe well ?” “T am sure I can not tell,” answered the girl. “Tt is quite wonderful,” he said, scanning them closely. She remarked his artist’s kit, and the air which he had of being a traveler. : “Did you wish to see my futher ?” she inquired. “T have been wandering about the country, enjoying the lovely scenery, and have strayed far from the village where I have taken a room,” he said. “I thought perhaps the dwellers in this charming place would not refuse me a night's lodging, comilicbooks.com