At a Girl's Mercy, or, The Fortunes of War — page 203: what you’re looking at

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

192 AT A GIRL'S MERCY. hand upon his arm, his kindly face troubled by the pain in the one lifted to his. “There is no dishonor in being a spy, Miss Nan,” — he said presently. ‘‘There is no dishonor in being that. Itis only a traitorous spy that one need fear. All armies must have spies in their midst, and it is as necessary a position as that of any other. You must not feel that your father is dishonored because -he was taken for that, my girl. Jf he is no traitor— and there is, indeed, no need to ask such a thing— there is no reason why you should feel as you do about that, only we must think of some way to get him from their hands, and so save his life for more of the brave work, I am sure he is doing, knowing youasI do. We will walk down here along the walls, Miss Nan, and you can recover your strength while we plan for some way to give your father his freedom. You must not bear more of this excite- ment than is necessary, or we will have my brave nurse upon our hands as a patient, and.no matter | how pleasant that might be, we must prevent it if we can, as we will prevent the carrying out of the designs of our enemies. Come with me, and we can talk as we walk. The air will do you good, and the getting away from that close building will give you new heart. There is so much suffering there that one cannot think quite calmly of those who are out- side of it.”’ | For nearly half an hour they walked slowly up and down along the walls within call, if there were need of their aid, and Nan felt her heart already lighter, as this friend had said it would be, after the soft air of the October evening had blown upon her sad little face with its crown of tumbled curls. There were many plans brought up, discussed, and put aside as unavailing. The surgeon, knowing it likely that the girl’s father would have met his fate almost at once upon his capture, if that fate were to be his, did not offer any plan that would in any way endanger the life of the girl who would go to the res- cue of her father as readily as she would cross the shadowy stretch of grass under the old, battle- scarred trees where they were walking. And the — | ; . 17 iY '~— 9 , ain »>