Thames sat with Winifred's hand clasped in his own, and commenced a recital of his adventures, which may be briefly told. It was one of those old sliding trap affairs, narrow and steep of descent. Behind the Avenue was a little hill, and an iron-fenced path went over the crest of this to a stile under an elm-tree, and forked there, with one branch going back into the Avenue again. 27 Her beloved mother Marina was the first in the house to catch it, the first to die. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. The sun-canvas was stowed; and Spurlock's chair was set forward the foremast, where the bulging jib cast a sliding blue shadow over him. Why did he take me?’ Martha’s damp eyes were puzzled.
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