But as Rowland sprang to the helm, and gave the signal for pursuit, a roar like a volley of ordnance was heard aloft, and the wind again burst its bondage. " "The Dawn Pearl! Odd, but we white folks aren't half so poetical as the yellow or the black. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. She would not let her move. "At all hazards then then you shall know the truth," replied the woollen-draper, in a tone of affected solicitude,—"but are you really prepared?" "Quite—quite!" replied Winifred. She was perfectly aware that the boy had gotten some sort of bug in his craw over her despite her sloppy, strange appearance. But was that enough? Dim, formless suspicions of something more vital wandered about his mind.
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