I have never seen a lagoon. Kneebone, having been alarmed by something in the widow's look before her feelings found vent in the manner above described, thrust his hand instinctively into his coat in search of his pocket-book,—about the security of which, as it contained several letters and documents implicating himself and others in the Jacobite plot, he was, not unnaturally, solicitous,—and finding it gone, he felt certain he had been robbed. “Fancy stabbing a man for jealousy!” she thought. She was dressed as a white woman should be; and that for the present satisfied her instincts. The tired woman looked up in inquiring silence at Ann Veronica’s diffident entry. Their laughter, together with the agonized yowling of the dog, drew a circle of wondering natives; and at length McClintock himself came over to see what the racket was about. Wood, softening her asperity.
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