At a Girl's Mercy, or, The Fortunes of War — page 136: what you’re looking at

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

AT A GIRL’S MERCY. 125 as she said, he were dying at her feet. But she was powerless to do anything. She must simply sit down like so many other women, and wait for the war to end, and all things to come around somehow. She could not even have Helen’s feeling that she was doing something for the poor laddies giving their lives for her and her country. She had heard from Ned not many days ago—when was it? Could it be but three days since? It seemed like years to her now, thinking of it. But the few words she had received were written many days. before, and reached her only after wanderings of which she could never know. She took out the scrap of paper, torn from a pocket diary, and read the few words of cheer scribbled upon-it in pencil in a moment of leisure. There were footsteps on the gravel of the walk, and Nan looked up, her hand closing over the bit of paper lying upon the flowers in her lap. ‘Tt seems to me that the sun shines simply for you not to disappoint the flowers, Miss Nan,” said Mr. Blake. “Tt is kind of you to think so,”’ said Nan, icily. She was sorry he had come. It was so hard for her anyway that morning, and she did not want him to be there to face her. She was unhappy, and it was only in her happiest moments he should have ventured near her. “Not at all!’? and the man laughed, without a trace of the knowledge that she was out of temper. “But you do seem to be so heart and soul with the flowers that I can find no other cause for our sunny weather.”? Then his face settled into its usual in- serutible lines as he added, his voice softening with an attempt at kindliness: ‘‘I came over to tell you (Eo) m Eomicbooks