" "He's let out for a few hours," laughed Kneebone; "but he's going back again after supper. Stories … love stories: and to-morrow she would know the joy of reading them! It was almost unbelievable; it was too good to be true. "Here I am, Captain," cried a voice from without. But I shan't let him off thus. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. One of the shutters was a trifle damaged, letting in added light. He remembered that, before he attempted to dislodge the stone, he had placed the child in a cavity of the pier, which the granite mass had been intended to fill. She is the wife now of another man.
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