Beadle's Dime Novels No. 3: Myra, the Child of Adoption — page 70: what you’re looking at

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

68 MYRA, THE CHILD OF ADOPTION. to our first youth, have much of heayen in them; if they could only endure through life always bright, always enveloped in the same rosy mist, “ Man: might for et to dream of heaven, And yet have the sweet sin forgiven.” _Myra was aroused from her day-dream, not rudely as some of our sweetest fancies are broken, but by a light footfall, and a soft voice that called her name from the inner room. The young girl started up— “ Mother—mother, is it you—am I very late this morning ?” “Oh, you are here, daughter,” said a middle-aged and gentle lady as she entered the boudoir. “ No, not very late, but do you know that your father has just arrived and is inquiring for you ?” “My father here, and I not half ready to go down!” cried Myra, eagerly gathering up her hair, while, with the wonder- ful mobility natural to her features, the whole tone of her face changed. The dreamy, almost languid expression vanished in an instant. The warm glow of her affectionate nature broke through every feature like flame hidden in the heart of a pearl. Her cheek, her mouth, her white forehead were full of animation; her brown eyes sparkled with delight. With her whole being she loyed the man whom she believed to be her father, and forthe gentle woman who stood gazing upon her with so much affection as her toilet was completed, Myra’s devotion was almost more than the natural loye of a child for its mother. Scarcely a minute elapsed before the young girl was ready to go down. Another minute and she was in the arms of a fine and noble-looking man who stood by the break- fast-room door eagerly watching for her. During many weeks — he had been absent from his home, and he could not feel thoroughly welcomed back again while Myra was not ~ to greet him. It was a joyous family party that gathered around the breakfast-table that morning. The eyes of that gentle wife wandered, with a look of grateful affection, from the noble face of her husband to meet the sparkling glance of her child; for Myra was more than a child to her. Rejoiced to be once more in the bosom of his family, Mr. D. was more than usu- ally animated and agreeable, There was not a hidden thought or a disunited feeling in the little family group. comicbooks.com