Beadle's Dime Novels No. 37: Godbold, the Spy — page 114: what you’re looking at

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

112 GIDECN GODBOLD. »* much emotion; but it was plain that strong feelings attracted him from their path. Both expressed hope for a reunion; then they separated—Isabelle proceeding toward her city home, and the ionely Gideon toward the grave of Alice. They arrived at Philadelphia in safety. The sadness of Isabelle, greatly mollified by the association of Horace, now tvivea, as she again found herself in that room where so much of her time had been spent with her beloved Alce. It was evening when she visited her apartment; and, as she gazed through the casement into the garden, and upon the heavens above, she thought of those prophetic clouds whick had figured danger and unhappiness to Alice, and she thought how, on that same day, she had related to her dear frien! the omens at Gen. Arnold’s wedding. How. truthfully had ‘hese disastrous predictions been fulfilled; and,'as she revolved hese and similar theories in her inflated mind, a touch from Ior- ace, who had entered the door unseen, caused her to scram and almost faint. But he soon reassure@ ber, and then the related all those events which now so crowded upon ier memory. Horace, in his kind manner, soothec her excie- ment, and then attempted to convince her that these ocew- rences were no Lumens of the late catastrophes. “ The sequel, I must admit, dear Isabelle,” he said, “ hs been singularly coincident with the disasters foreshaduwed but this is a mere accidental concurrence between seeminy premonition and fact, and arenes not be permitted AE hid upon our reason.” “T wish to think so, dear Horace? said Isabelle, “ and yet I can not dislodge from my mind a scene so faithfully por- trayed as that which Alice read from the clouds that stormy night, and which has since been played to her own de struction.” , Horace pressed her: to his heart and led her from the room. Ee could not further attempt to disturb a feeling which Isa- delle evidently thought sacred to the memcry of her dear and beloved friend. ‘One evening, as Horace was about to ‘enter the ates of Mr. Ormond, he was alarmed by a feeble ery of He found it proceeded from a poor man who had been by a carriage in the street, the reckless driver of ° Comichooks-com)