Beadle's Dime Novels No. 20: Florida; or, The Iron Will — page 19: what you’re looking at

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

THE INVALID. 1? “ Because I do now,” replied Florida, in the cross, short way that always {ntimated she wished no more questioning on the subject. Virginia hardly knew yet how to defend herself. She stood irresolutely, unpinning a pretty sash of blue that depended from her waist, when a thin, querulous voice cried out from the distant gloom of the chamber: “Ts that my Jenny? Come here my own c.ild.” The room extended the entire length of the house, and on one side the ceiling sloped. It was furnished with a few cal- ico-covered arm-chairs, two very aged claw-footed tables, a lounge of home manufacture that served Virginia for a bed, and two bedsteads, one of them high-posted and covered with long, sweeping curtains, the other that stood in the center of the chamber, quite small and tasteful. Toward the first of these two went Virginia, and drew aside the curtains, taking care to insure a place of greater safety for a couple of well- worn crutches that stood near, “ My own darling, why didn’t you stay—Florry didn’t like to tend me,” said the same voice, while the light showed a | thin attenuated figure, whose sunken eyes, protruding cheek- , bones and high, unnaturally white forehead, from which strayed a few scattered silver hairs, gave a ghastly and preternatural . look to the whole being of the invalid. “You told me I might go, mother,” said Virginia, gently, stooping and kissing her forehead. “JT thought then you would bring me home some flowers, or a few berries—I am so neglected !” ‘said the voice, wearily. “T wish I could get away from here,” she continued, stil] fretfully. “I came, as young and pretty as you are, Jenny—my eyes were blue, and could shine, then. Thomas, your father, used to straighten out my long curls and let them go, quick, to see how naturally they would cling up against my temples. Thomas was a handsome man—and my first love. I don’t know—it scems sort 0’ fanciful, you know, dear—but some- times I think he sits here, at the head, just as he used when I was very ill, anc a strange calm steals over me. I forget I am old and lame and sick, and-go to sleep still thinking, you know, that he is watching there. He used tr say, ‘Mary, I hope we shall @ie very near together, for it seems 1s if I could COnMICOOOXKS.COm