” He said curiously. . " "And I trust you will never have occasion to weep again, my poor soul," replied Wood, setting down his lantern, and brushing a few drops from his eyes, "unless it be tears of joy. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. I’m fine. " "Didn't know but what I'd been out-bid. “She has lost something,” he declared, “something which brought the men in crowds around the stage at the ‘Ambassador’s. ” “Oh, it wasn’t that. She might scream until her voice failed; the natives would not come to her aid; they never meddled with the affairs of the whites.
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