On this fresh outburst of the storm, Wood threw himself instinctively into the bottom of the boat, and clasping the little orphan to his breast, endeavoured to prepare himself to meet his fate. He flung himself backwards, hit the dais and fell heavily before the altar, losing his low-crowned beaver. The owner was at the door unhooking a few articles of wearing apparel which he had exposed outside for sale. She doubted how she stood toward him and what the restrained gleam of his face might signify.
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