At a Girl's Mercy, or, The Fortunes of War — page 24: what you’re looking at

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

AT A GIRL’S MERCY. 13 voice stirred by a clear note of indignation, while her eyes met unflinchingly the eyes behind the mask, searching for any clew that might possibly lead to the identification of the audacious thief—‘‘is it not rather ungallant, sir, to ask a lady to arise? May | not remain where I am, and so direct you to my safe and my jewels? It is to be regretted that my broth- ers are not here to perform this little courtesy in my stead, but my brothers are away to the war, and my father, I understand, is in your power.” She laughed as she spoke—a disdainful laugh that set the man’s eyes afire—and ran her fingers care- lessly through the short curls of her head. She would meet this man on his own ground of mock- ing courtesy, and if a chance should offer—— ‘“T would I could oblige you, sir, but it is nota pleasant duty.” ‘“T would it werein my power to grant your re- quest, sweet friend,’ he said, bending before her in low courtesy, ‘‘but itis impossible. Your eyes pro- claim your forced friendship for me, and I prefer having you before my eyes—a pretty vision, 1n sooth!’? he added, smiling. ‘‘May I trouble you to arise at once, as time passes, and I cannot linger, however much I may desire to do so.” Again she laughed her sweet, disdainful laugh, that made the man’s ears tingle, as she slipped slowly from the bed, and arose, confronting him, drawing herself to her full height with pretty dig- nity, that even then left her a head and shoulders below his stature—for he had a magnificent figure, be he what he might—her white gown falling around her, hiding even the dainty white feet beneath. “Sir? she said, with a deprecating gesture, not a trace of fear in her manner, not a quiver in the (ECO) AMICE JOO “sya ere) m