" "Accident or not," rejoined Sheppard; "you're no longer pall of mine. "Poor thing!" muttered he, as the widow departed on her errand, "she's seen better days and better circumstances than she'll ever see again, I'm sure. She felt a semi-sharp object being gently impressed into her back. To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt. If she has no children, she goes on loving her husband; but he is no longer a man but a child. She hated it, she hated the mission-house; she hated the sleek lagoon, the palms, the burning sky. In one of the big gates was a little door, and she rapped at this.
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