The voice of the young seaman came floating down from the masthead, and the story of the immortal lovers had begun. It was as much accident as anything, but she had killed him. The latter looked very pale, either from the effect of his wound, which was not yet entirely healed, or from suppressed emotion,—partly, perhaps, from both causes,—and wore his left arm in a sling. With a cry of distress, she dropped the pistol and flew after him, racing past him to the door. ” “Of course,” he said, reaching out his hand tentatively for his hat, “I could go away even now.
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