CHAPTER I. ’ *** Martha sniffed dolefully, scrubbing at her reddened eyes with a large square of damp linen. "Here he is, waterman," exclaimed the benevolent carpenter. She responded with an unfaltering appearance of insensibility, and never as a young and beautiful woman conscious of sex; always in the character of an intelligent girl student. "It's an ill wind that blows nobody good," thought the carpenter, turning his attention to the child, whose feeble struggles and cries proclaimed that, as yet, life had not been extinguished by the hardships it had undergone.
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