"Is it you?" "It is," replied Sheppard, as he untied the cords. Sometimes at sea a skipper will order his men to trim, batten down the hatches, and clear the deck of all litter. 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. Miss Mary and me, and Martha too sometimes. You are the woman I love, Anna. ” He took them out and showed her. Sheppard, in a voice of agony.
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