"There's my answer!" rejoined Wild, hurling the bludgeon at him, with such fatal effect, that striking him on the head it brought him instantly to the ground. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. ’ ‘Yes, but I need a word with Gerald,’ protested the captain, hanging back. “Come,” he said, “you can’t be meaning to bury yourself. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry.
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