Beadle's Dime Novels No. 142: The Sagamore of Saco — page 92: what you’re looking at

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

94 THE SAGAMORE OF SACO. — smile played over the lips of the girl, but she whis- — pered: ““ When the torch is consumed to ashes, no power can rekin- Bans alam asiee gl Bs We will in th “ not ringly, Hope. e will not rejoin those celd, hard hypocrites whom we both abhor. No, oor look up, my child; take heart, dear heart. We will build us up a bower in some lovely dell, where the birds shall sing all day, and in- necent creatures resort for love of thee, and we will worship God with true hearts, and live as the beautiful Miranda of Shak- — lived, only instead of Prospero it shall be Miranda and nay Dost understand, love “i - ile the sagamore thus poured out his poetic eo pee with beaining eyes, and looks unutterably tender, opie dreamy eyes were fixed on the vapors circling the falls, which were ever and anon swept aside by the gusty wind which stirred — in the bare branches of the trees. It was evident that much in the mind of her lover was to her a sealed book. Perhaps John Bonyton felt something of the kind. Who has not, at some time, — out the unfathomed wealth of a soul upon an arid desert Perhaps he felt that Ads thought was not her thought—his love was not her love, for he replied-to the dreamy eyes: “ Yes, dear Hope, we will be content to think, not talk. Thou shalt call me brother, as in the olden time, and I thee, sister.” “John Bonyton, Hope is no mote than the old Hope. Thou art—right royal.” And as if this expressed more to her than its words would seem to convey, she for the first time threw her arms about his neck. Then she pressed her lips to his in one wild, passionate burst, and withdrew herself from his arms. | ¢ For the first and the last time,” she had exclaimed, “ thus— thus do I steep my soul in thine. Now go—go; I can not live to see thee look with a weary heart—a half-jeart, upon the who is all thine.” , While the solitary child, pure as the unnamed crystal that hung from the cave in which she had. been so long immured, gave expression to that untutored tenderness which she felt was to be a. dream of the past, the sagamore suddenly started forward, and pointed to a high rock by the margin of the falls, upon which appeared the tail figure of Acashee. Hope saw her with a faint smile, which was not lost upon her lover. A moment more, and a group of amazed and horror-stricken warriors occupiel the shore by her side. They lifted up their hands aghast at the fearful spectacle—they leaped from rock to rock in fierce efforts to extinguish the fatal blaze, but in vain. The burning hemlock towered in fearful splendor, sending forth jets of flame, an object of beauty no less than of terror. And bow the Saco warriors, rushing from their ambush, dealt sure conmiclooOolks. conn