" "And I trust you will never have occasion to weep again, my poor soul," replied Wood, setting down his lantern, and brushing a few drops from his eyes, "unless it be tears of joy. Presently he heard her voice. Our heads swim with the thought of being together. When she told him that the natives called her The Dawn Pearl, his delight was unbounded. " "Don't be angry with me, Sir," cried the widow, sobbing bitterly, "pray don't. What had happened to it? She had broken it, certainly. “Cheveney wouldn’t have anything to say about it, as it happens,” he remarked, a little grimly. She wondered who the girl might belong to as she patted dirt over the shallow grave. ’ ‘You need not be a nun,’ he said, leaning towards her. “Let go!” she gasped at him, a blaze of anger.
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