Beadle's Dime Novels No. 3: Myra, the Child of Adoption — page 89: what you’re looking at

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

BECOMING DESRERATE. 87 broke the seal. The anger that shook the proud man’s nerves, the sharp exclamation that sprang from his lips, were heard by Mrs. D. as she passed into the breakfast-parlor. She saw the handwriting crushed angrily between the fingers of her husband, and filled with dread that Myra’s private corre- ce had been betrayed, she left the room and hastened to her daughter’s chamber. . “© Myra! I fear—I fear that your papa has in some way obtained one of Mr. Whitney’s letters,’ cried the generous lady, with a face that bespoke all the anxiety that preyed upon her. Myra turned a little more pallid than usual, for her father’s anger was a terrible thing to brave,—of that she was well aware; but, after a moment, her natural courage returned, and she answered with some degree of firmness: “ Dear mamma, do not look so terrified. Let his anger fall ‘ on me; sit down. That pale face must not tell him that you have ever known of these letters.” Mrs. D. sank to a seat, striving to regain some degree of composure, and Myra went down-stairs, very pale, but making an effort to sustain with dignity the reproaches that she felt to be prepared for her. “Here, young lady!” said Mr. D. as Myra entered the room; “ here is a letter from that Whitney again—a letter to me—asking permission to visit you.” Myra drew a deep breath; in her agitation she had forgot- ten that this letter might be expected, and so long as her father’s anger had only this source, she could withstand it. “ Well, papa, and you will answer it ?” said the young girl, gently, but still with some tremor of the voice. “J will!” was the angry reply; “I will answer it as such presumption deserves !” “ Surely—surely, papa, you will not forget that Mr. Whit- ney is a gentleman, and deserving of courteous treatment ?” “I forget nothing !” was the curt reply ; and without further argument Mr. D, left the room, and in half an hour after an old colored man was galloping toward Wilmington, with a jJetter, directed to Mr. Whitney, in his pocket. What that Jetter contained might have been guessed from the hasty and plotted address, had it not been written black as night on the commicloooks.cormn