" "Ay, marry," replied Wood, with a look that seemed to say that he did not think it required any surprising skill in the art of divination to predict the doom of the individual in question; but whatever opinion he might entertain, he contented himself with inquiring into the grounds of the conjuror's evil augury respecting the infant. The sea was no longer rolling brass; it was bluer than anything he had ever seen. I’m that shamed to confess it, miss, but it were then I thought of Martha. Books! She knew now what had saved her—her mother's hand, reaching down from heaven, had set the giver's flaming eyes upon the covers of these books. But to go courting a slave-girl, at the risk of physical hurt! A shudder of distaste wrinkled her shoulders.
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