" "And I trust you will never have occasion to weep again, my poor soul," replied Wood, setting down his lantern, and brushing a few drops from his eyes, "unless it be tears of joy. He did not pocket it, but sat hefting it lightly from hand to hand, watching the girl thoughtfully. Why, there's another party on the stair-head inquiring arter scullers; and, by the mass! they appear in a greater hurry than any on us. She’s already spoken for. “How crude you are, Anna!” she exclaimed with a little sigh. " "My son!" echoed the widow, trembling.
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