At a Girl's Mercy, or, The Fortunes of War — page 190: what you’re looking at

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

AT A GIRL’S MEROY. 179 their scheme and the capture of one of their men. But the man who was leading them on to their re- venge and his own ends seemed never to be dis- couraged by any failures. He set them on the track of the squire, as the blow to harm him through other means failed, and they dogged his footsteps through the city and even up in the quietness of the country town, watching and waiting for the chance to come that would give them the blow in the dark. He was never disheartened and never discouraged at the halting victory he was fighting for, and poor little Nan, doing her sweet work of charity among the stricken men in the camps of the wounded, could not know of the evil lurking at her very doors to strike for her heart when the chance should offer. She was a tender nurse. That she knew nothing of nursing and simply followed the orders of those under whom she worked was nothing to her dis- credit. Her hands were willing and her heart ten- der, though the red mouth quivered many a time as > she bent over the tense form of some of the sufferers brought in from the field. That her heart was sore, and her soul sick within her at so much suffering, no one knew, though the older nurses guessed it from the daily deepening sweetness of the tender face and the paling of the warm coloring of the dimpled cheeks that showed no trace of tears. But she held her heart under her control, and did her work with the willingness, if not all the bravery, of her friend in the hospitals nearer home. And the men loved her as they must love her for her angel face and her dainty patience, the touch of her fingers like the light touch of hope upon their seamed and aching brows, the soft low voice like the echo of the mother voices back in the old days of childhood when this bitterness of battle had not entered its dart in their hearts and their lives. She herself was like the glimpse into heaven to the weary, battle-sore men. as she passed between their cots with tender thought for each and all, and the smile that was like sun- shine in the darkness of the dreary place. She real- ized more and more every day what acruel thing war was as she took up her duties and carried the Eomicbooks (E(0) aS