" "And I trust you will never have occasion to weep again, my poor soul," replied Wood, setting down his lantern, and brushing a few drops from his eyes, "unless it be tears of joy. Before an hour had elapsed, the concourse was fearfully increased. Her fancy dress, save for the green-gray stockings, the pseudo-Turkish slippers, and baggy silk trousered ends natural to a Corsair’s bride, was hidden in a large black-silk-hooded operacloak. . I wonder what it was. At this juncture, the door was opened by Rachel. \"Good night, girls. You come with those clear eyes of yours, as valiant as an angel.
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