’ ‘On the contrary. Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother. Then Capes’ footsteps approached. The atmosphere was 46 strained and deathly quiet at the dining room table. The sun-canvas was stowed; and Spurlock's chair was set forward the foremast, where the bulging jib cast a sliding blue shadow over him. Oh, Heavens; that I should have ever indulged a hope of happiness while that terrible man lives!" "Compose yourself, Joan," said Wood; "all will yet be well.
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