On this fresh outburst of the storm, Wood threw himself instinctively into the bottom of the boat, and clasping the little orphan to his breast, endeavoured to prepare himself to meet his fate. She interrupted. “They ought to have been lopped in the spring. ” The truth prevailed. She wondered who the girl might belong to as she patted dirt over the shallow grave. She let out a wail. Everything in his favour—the luck of the gods! The only white men were miles down the coast. Good riddance. ” “John, do you remember me at all?” “Lucy?!” He cried in disbelief.
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