"Hell-hounds!" he cried; "release me!" At the same moment, Quilt Arnold rushed forward with such haste, that, stumbling over William Morgan, he precipitated him into the grave. For a moment her heart seemed to stop beating. Anna’s face was half turned from him, but her expression, and the tone of her monosyllable puzzled him. Had it not been lashed to the adjoining wherry, it must have been upset, and have precipitated the opponents into the water. He stopped short with a little exclamation of surprise. Jolly nose! there are fools who say drink hurts the sight; Such dullards know nothing about it. She became as The Tigress, a free thing. The curtain tinkled as her head brushed it, but he neither saw nor heard. .
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