"Let me go," cried Winifred. The door opened. This child at once alarmed and thrilled them. " "Bring him here,—let me see him—let me embrace him—let me be assured that he is safe, and I am yours. Besides," added he, opening the shawl in which the infant was wrapped, and throwing the light of the candle full upon its sickly, but placid features, "it's sinful to repine while you've a child like this to comfort you. He was there concealed, waiting her return. I did not know you spoke Kanaka," he broke off. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her. "Rot, weren't they?" "No. He seemed to be labouring under some great excitement. That'll tune me up.
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