Beadle's Dime Novels No. 20: Florida; or, The Iron Will — page 36: what you’re looking at

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

£4 FLORIDA; OR, THE [RON WILL. er ay; Ps = are !—she with that strangely transparent fairness that the old painters gloried in with exultant pride when they caught the tints on can e luminous eyes shedding their amber light into cheeks and lips, making a glory, that at times seemed almost a transfiguration. . “My darling, God biess you;” whispered the elder’s wife, coming forward, her open arms extended. Virginia scarcely knew why she did so; it was a sudden impulse born of the yearning for a mother’s sweet presence; but she fell with a sob upon that gentle bosom, and there the good woman gathered and held her as she wept softly—so softly ! speaking words of comfort, for she knew that her home life was not a happy one—and who, looking at one of them, certainly, could feel much faith for the fature, however earn- estly hope might mingle in the fear. There was but little eaten, little drank. No one tried to be merry, though there was no lack of sweet smiles and pleasant words. Then came a fervent good-night—the two newly wedded were threading again the forest-path, now laced with slender, quivering beams of pale moonlight. They talked little, but when they spoke it was rapidly—on his side passionate words of endearment. “And now those walls will ‘le you from my sight fora while,” said the young man, _ ile she stood as if ready to spring toward their shelter. “You will surely keep our secret _ as long as we remain here, dearest.” , ' “YT will try to,” whispered Virginia, one moment clinging do his hand, the next starting forward. / “Why need you hurry so, darling? The house is quite dark—Florida can not haye returned.” “O, Parker! let me go—I could not bear her anger to-night of all times, and her very eyes would turn to tongues—I never could endure her to see rae.” Se ee en TOR Fe wife The lights are all out as Virginia enters the quaint little | ball and softly feels her way up the stairs, There is a rustle _ her chamber while she stands on the threshold—a light y gicamis on the darkness, and there is Florida, a hard ~~ ‘ — connicloooks.conn