At a Girl's Mercy, or, The Fortunes of War — page 78: what you’re looking at

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

AT A GIRL’S MERCY. 67 _ fused to go with them she would of course expose them, and the consequences would be death. For a moment she made no reply, but there was an ominous twitching of the hard mouth and a gleam in the cold eyes that boded ill for her cause. A pallor was stealing over Lola’s face, but she. controlled herself by a strong effort, and walked on ~ with her companion in silence. Finally the woman spoke—it seemed ages to Lola waiting—and her voice was cold as steel. ‘I ain’t sech a fool as ter go,’’ she said, scornfully. “No; I ain’t a-goin’, Lola Richy.’’ A hand of ice closed around Lola’s heart, a wild horror seized upon her. The end must come, then, in this way. Death was to close the scene. Only one night of life, and then—for, of course, the woman would disclose the secret. She had never been friendly to them, and now she would have her revenge. With a wild prayer unuttered, and her lips so parched she could scarcely control them, she turned to her companion for one last appeal, an appeal not only for herself, but for the lives of her friends, though she gave no hint of this. It was for her life she would have spoken, and left the others free, but when she turned the woman was gone, and she did not see her again that night. There was little sleep for Lola. The thoughts crowded upon her swift as lightning, deadly as the lightning in their intensity. That she must die— die on the morrow as only a dog would die. Shot down in her health and strength and the first flush of her life. And freedom had been so near it seemed to her that she must goon. Ina tumult of terror, and prayer, and crying against her fate, the greater EComichoo cS (ao) 4% » MS Ye se