She had something of the feeling a Hindoo must experience who has been into surroundings or touched something that offends his caste. With a loud shout, and headed by a powerfully-built man, with a face as black as that of a mulatto, and armed with a cutlass, the rabble leapt over the barricades, and rushed towards the vehicle. Where her husband saw only two youngsters in the mating mood, she felt that tragedy in some phase lurked in this room—if only in the loneliness of these two, without kith or kin apparently, thousands of miles from home. There was a coffee equipage on the table, and some sandwiches, and the fire had been recently made up. “I don’t see that his being a good sort matters. "Now stand before me, Poll.
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