"It is her child!" shrieked Rowland, in a voice heard above the howling of the tempest, "risen from this roaring abyss to torment me. She was her mother’s child, fair of face, doted upon and spoiled by her attentions. The mode of destruction makes no difference. Parbleu, but she was a fool. " "I can," rejoined Jack; "and you, too, old Aaron, if I'd a razor. " And, with this generous resolve, he shouted at the top of his voice, "Arrest! arrest! help! help!" seconding the words with a shrill and peculiar cry, well known at the time to the inhabitants of the quarter in which it was uttered. At least, you are one, and I am disguised like one. He was never known to err, and was as much dreaded as the jailfever in consequence.
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