To the practised eye of the waterman matters wore a very different air. ’ ‘But what have I done?’ protested Gerald innocently. But I was sorry for poor Jack—as I am still, and hoped he would mend. As Spurlock called her name, she paused and turned. Now the baby’s bright May eyes peered up at her intently. Holding down the light, he perceived that the wounded man had risen to the surface, and was trying to clamber up the slippery sides of the well. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. He could not kiss Ruth.
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