At a Girl's Mercy, or, The Fortunes of War — page 113: what you’re looking at

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

102 AT A GIRD’S MERCY. holding to the railing with both white hands, one cf the hounds at her feet, watching her with intelli- gent eyes. She was a new Nan in her present state of feeling, and even the animal recognized this. The sun was going down over the hills toward the west; in the east the pale rose was turning to the amber that heralds moonrise. It was rather later than usual for her father, but her heart was wonder- fully ight, and she did not have a trace of fear that any harm had befallen him. She was impatient for his coming, for she had good news for him, but she was too much occupied with this one thought to even stop to think deeper of his delay. ‘‘.am so glad, so glad mamma is better,’’ she said finally to the dog, stooping to pat his lifted head. ‘I simply cannot wait for papa to come home that I may tell him the good news, Carlo. It does seem just too good to be true.’’ She sat down on the wide old steps beside the dog, lifting his head to her lap that she might more easily smooth his shining coat. She pulled his long ears with affectionate tormenting, and laughed when he moved uneasily at a harder pull than before. “IT must torment you, poor old Carlo,’’ she said, “if I can have no one else to talk to. You’re a dear, - patient fellow, and I’ll prove it.”’ She laughed again gayly, and pulled with renewed vigor the silken ears. She could not be quiet with her suppressed happiness. It was so good to once more see her mother, to hear her voice even so faintly, to know that she recognized her daughter, to know that she had smiled upon her with a trace of her old time sweetness. Again she broke into the gay little snatch of song, her voice sounding strange after its long silence. Gomicbooks.co