"I was right," replied Jack, returning as coolly as if nothing had happened. He found that the skiff had been dashed against one of the buttresses of the bridge. Standing before a mirror set on a dresser between the windows, two hands frozen in the act of adjusting a wide-brimmed hat on her head, stood a lady in a dark riding habit, her startled features turned towards the door. Were the parents agreeable? Were they of age? Had the license been procured? But here, in a far country, only the velvet manacles of wedlock were necessary. She got up and unlocked the door. " "Accident or not," rejoined Sheppard; "you're no longer pall of mine.
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