She had, by the magic of recollection, set the picture of the typhoon between herself and her table companions: the terrible rollers thundering on the white shore, the deafening bellow of the wind, the bending and snapping palms, the thatches of the native huts scattering inland, the blur of sand dust, and those two outcasts defying the elements. The child was now within reach; and, in another moment, he would have executed his deadly purpose, if an arm from behind had not felled him to the ground. Things hung for a moment in an awkward silence. The only thing that was louder to her was the beating of his heart. " "Horrible!" cried Mrs. “My dear child,” he said, “with me you need have no apprehension. "That he couldn't choose any one so agreeable to me. "She has," rejoined Sheppard. At this moment, the bell began to toll in a peculiar manner, announcing the approach of the corpse. ‘Come along.
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