He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. Even now she was dazed. And how much I owe you, too, dearest Winifred, for your kindness and attention. Not a star could be discerned, but, in their stead, streaks of lurid radiance, whence proceeding it was impossible to determine, shot ever and anon athwart the dusky vault, and added to the ominous and threatening appearance of the night. " "What's the matter, Ruth?" asked Spurlock, anxiously.
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