At a Girl's Mercy, or, The Fortunes of War — page 138: what you’re looking at

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

AT A GIRL’S. MERCY, ) 127 “T thought you knew, or I would not have come——”’ She interrupted him in her stony fashion. “Tell me first what you mean,’’ she said. : Her eyes were searching his face, and his eyes fell. How could he face the terror in her own? He stooped in answer, and taking up the paper opened to a notice on one of the inner sheets, where the “‘valiant death of brave young Captain Tra- vers’ was given in afew glowing words. He was dead, then. Nan could not see how the girl hearing of this could stand so quietly as she, with no sort of feeling. She could not comprehend how she stood there without a trace of feeling, listening to the man whom she hated with such intensity as he uttered his words of regret for the loss of her friend. Of her friend? And was it not more than friend? Did not his words at their parting prove to her the deeper meaning he would give them when he came back from the war? When he came back from the war! Why, he would never come back from the war. He could never come back. She roused herself as she realized, or began to realize, to whom this message was sent. It was she, Nan Courtland, her very own self on whom this blow was falling. It was no other girl. She had no need to pity any one but her- self. And here she was standing quite calmly lis- tening to the words of sympathy Howard Blake was uttering. She would not let him see how this news affected her. She roused and turned as though she would enter the house, and in so doing felt the touch of his hand on hers. This gave her the strength she needed, and she drew herself up to her full | height, then only reaching to his shoulder, and held out her hand for the paper. “Tt is very sad,’’ she said, in her ordinary voice, (G(o) * eGomirchbooks ea)