At a Girl's Mercy, or, The Fortunes of War — page 117: what you’re looking at

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

BG) ae AT A GIRL’S MERCY. branches above her were settled for the night, utter- ing no sound save now and then an uneasy twitter as they moved in their sleep. Then the moon broke the darkness and rose splendidly above the eastern hills, sending a flood of light along the road to the feet of the girl in the shadow. One of Mr. Blake’s men passed and gave her good-evening. She replied to him, and smiled a wan little smile that only made her face more sad in the half light. There was an apathy about her that the man did not understand. She was usually, even when her mother was at the worst, a cheery woman, and therefore a favorite with every one. By and by Mr. Blake himself came up from the meadow lot, and paused in wonder. He had been told of her presence there, but she would never know that. If she was down at the gate, she was consequently waiting for her father, for he knew all these habits of hers, and therefore her father could not have arrived. There must be some good reason for his delay, for he had never kept his daughter waiting since this sickness of her mother. And if the thing had happened that he, too, was waiting for in spite of his apparent unconcern in all matters “relating to the war, then the net was closing around his victim, and he would gain a firmer hold. He had been waiting for this longer than the girl would have believed. ‘You have chosen a lonely place to watch the moon rise, Miss Nan,” he said, lightly, crossing to her side, and pausing in spite of a low growl from the dog. “‘Isn’tit rather damp for you? It isn’t the sort of place I should expect to find you in.” His words roused her spirit. She would not allow him to know of what she feared. He would perhaps Eomicbooks com