"Coming!" cried Blueskin, who was still lingering with Rachel. "First take the child," cried Darrell, holding up the infant, and clinging to the oar with a dying effort. It was fortunate that by this time Winifred had so far recovered, as to be able to afford her father the best and only solace that, under the circumstances, he could have received,—her personal attentions. It was always jabbing him with white-hot barbs, waking or sleeping. “Those things are not for me just at present.
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