If Martha knew all, she would certainly die of shock. I haven’t, anyhow. She rapped again, louder. “My sister and I,” she said slowly, “have seen very little of each other lately. Yes, yes; that was all very well in ordinary cases; but yonder was a soul in travail, if ever she had seen one. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. " "It is not Jack's voice," rejoined Mrs. ” The conversation hung. It was a port of call, since fortnightly a British mail-boat dropped her mudhook in the bay. There she would wander about in the kindly darkness. .
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