Wood could stand it no longer. It was at breakfast on this day that he told Ruth he had sent to Batavia for some dresses. Roused by Ben's warning, the carpenter looked up and could just perceive the dusky outline of the bridge looming through the darkness, and rendered indistinctly visible by the many lights that twinkled from the windows of the lofty houses. "But he can't be far off. "She wouldn't let me go. I have tried taking a little blood from various donors. There lay upon this stand a book bound in limp black leather—the Holy Bible. Your name?" "Owen Wood," replied the carpenter; "I've no reason to be ashamed of it. good at that. .
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