" "Ay—ay," laughed Jonathan. She was an indignant queen, no doubt she was alarmed and disgusted within limits; but she was highly excited, and there was something, some low adventurous strain in her being, some element, subtle at least if base, going about the rioting ways and crowded insurgent meeting-places of her mind declaring that the whole affair was after all—they are the only words that express it—a very great lark indeed. “What the devil do you mean by coming for me like that?” Ennison exclaimed, glowering down upon him. . The terrors and anxieties of the last few months seemed to have fallen from her, to have passed away like an ugly dream, dismissed with a shudder even from the memory. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. Darrell, however, rose again instantly; and though mortally wounded, made a desperate effort to regain the boat. It was she! The Dawn Pearl! He vaulted the veranda rail, careless now whether or not he was heard, and ran down to the beach. .
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