Witch Hazel; or, The Secret of the Locket — page 363: what you’re looking at

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

“My country, ’tis of thee, sittin Sweet land of liberty !” she trilled, in a clear, sweet soprano, and making a pretty picture, outlined against the rugged old rocks, in her bright pink chamnbrey dress, with her hat pushed back from her flushed, eager face, while she shaded her gleaming eyes with one plump white hand, in whieh the dimples showed like dents in a peach. At the sound of that familiar air the young gentle- man below glanced up at her with a smile, took off his hat, and bowed in response to this musical recog- nition of his nationality. Then he, too. gave a start and changed color, while Belle, with another cry of pleasure, bounded forward with outstretched hand, exclaiming : “Why, Mr. Osborn! where did you come from ?” “From the ‘sweet land of liberty,’ of course, Miss Belle,” he replied, clasping her hand cordially and raising his hat again. “Why, how could you?—I did not know—I thought” Belle stammered, blushed crimson, then stopped in confusion, as she found that she was thinking aloud. The young man laughed lightly, although an ex- pression of bitterness curled his lipa. ‘You thought that, since I was only a poor clerk in Macy’s, I could ill afford atrip abroad; least of all to come to high-toned, expensive Brighton to idle away my time,’ he said, similingly, completing her sentence for her. “Why, yes—I did think just that,’’ Belle confessed with refreshing frankness, ‘‘for you used to tell ine that you were very poor after your fafher.died, and it was discovered that he had lost all ee ee F