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Pulp Fiction, 1865 · page 86 of 116

Beadle's Dime Novels No. 87: On the Deep — page 86: what you’re looking at

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Beadle's Dime Novels No. 87: On the Deep — page 86: Pulp Fiction, 1865

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‘8 O28 px NE OD REPL TO! ~~ ‘Hovis cast ‘a shy glance at’Grace from the ‘corners of her ayia The fair orphan’ had © advanced to the side ‘ofthe wounded man, and, unknown °to herself;' there iwas’’a world of pity and tenderness: | in her spite eyes as: wine ——— down upon his face.» Mid “T never thotizht we should: see! you again)” ihe faltered, “and, even ‘now, T'can hanty gh “mnysel? ‘that i am. not dreamin” “ And the surgeon “aia not choi me. Rott « are: sniasiaks pats ‘and well? muirtntured: Loring, his’eyés ‘shining with ‘pleasure. “ Yes, thanks to your brave exertions,” she’ replied. « “You have acted nobly, and God Will: reward you. : I owe you a debt of gratitude which—” {29h iaerg-& “ You owe me nothing,” he interrupted, andthe wistful light now burniig in ‘his ‘dark eyes covered her . cheeks’ with ‘blushes. “You'owe me nothing. Your’safety ismy reward for what little I have done for you: Had you been ‘killed or injured, I could never have known a moment’s peace ‘in ‘this world. And now,” he added, ——_— the a dae iu owe you an exp ldiihtionlaze “ Not now—not now at she’ cried ; wait until vyou are stronger.” : “Oh! no,” he replied, “ it: aves not hurt me to tall. My -—_ may be told in a few words.” | : “Then; ‘pausing a moment, as if to: collect: pli tlio ghite: he began the recital of lis adventures.since ‘he parted from his friends in ‘the cutter. It shall be ourstask to take ’up the thread of his narrative, at sees pant eran sie wre in'a ag ceding éhapter. w “My slumber,” utd 6)" “ upon’ the : mete in {the chieftain’s hut; must have been very ‘deep; for,when I awoke; I dis- covered that my hands and feet:were'tied: with ropes; and that TI was deprived of my clothing, ‘for which was substituted a piece of cloth fastened around my waist. © There ‘was a smart- ing sensation about my cheeks and forehead, for which I could ‘not account, until’ ‘the same old ‘woman of whom I have ‘already spoken, came to my side*with a piece of a looking-glass, ‘and, stooping, held it before my eyes. ‘To my astonishment, I ‘perceived that my face was painted or rather stained \in’a hideous manner, being eovered with circles, dots, squares, and conmicbooks.com _— } £19: i} ry . eed