Witch Hazel; or, The Secret of the Locket — page 81: what you’re looking at

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

many portraits and almost poe treasures ot art—he was ushered into a richly furnished chamber, where two ladies and as many servants were gath- ered around the bed, upon which there lay one of the most beautiful young girls that Perey Morton had ever seen. She was apparently about twenty-one or two years of age—a perfect blonde, with hair like threads of finest gold, and a face whose pure, delicate profile, once seen, could never be forgotten. Her eyes he could not see, for they were ‘hidden beneath her waxen lids, whose long golden lashes swept the marble cheek; but he could well imagine their color, blue as wood violets in June. Her grace, @ woman of penians sixty years, but upright in form and sprightly in her movements as a girl of sixteen, came forward, at his entrance, and greeted him graciously, “Doctor Morton,” she said, ‘‘we are greatly relieved by your presence. Allow me to present my friend, Mrs. Stewart. And now will you not give your in- Stant attention to our dear Helena?” Percy made his bow to Mrs. Stewart, and then he was at the bedside, his tingers upon the delicate wrist of the insensible girl, almost before she had ceased speaking. There was scarcely any pulse; it was but a feebly vibrating thread. He laid his band upon her heart. None but the most skillful touch conld have de- tected a movement; but he knew that life was not extinct. It was evidently a case of protracted syncope. The resolute lines settled firmly about. pie oun physician’s mouth; he meant to save HIT sep