By the light of a torch borne at the stern of the hostile wherry, he saw that the pursuers had approached within a short distance of the object of their quest. No sooner did the vehicle turn the corner of this yard, than Quilt became aware, from the tumultuous sounds that reached his ears, as well as from the flashing of various lanterns at the door of the round-house, that some disturbance was going on; and, apprehensive of a rescue, if he drew up in the midst of the mob, he thought it prudent to come to a halt. He had plugged along, if not happy, at least with sound philosophy. Capes flashed to an understanding of her intention, sprang to his feet, and opened the door for her retreat. The queer phase of the dream was this, she was at no time a woman; she was symbolical of something, and he followed to learn what this something was. Strange, demure-looking young woman, with wonderful complexion and eyes, and a style about her, too.
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