Jones's countenance, "I am so helpless, so weak--
but a poor girl, after all. How can I tell what is right? Father!
you have always been so kind to me,--and you to be--never mind--
never mind, all will come right in the grave."
"Save us, and bless us!" exclaimed Mrs. Jones, "if I don't think
she's gone out of her wits!"
"No, I am not," said Mary, catching at the words, and with a strong
effort controlling the mind she felt to be wandering, while the red
blood flushed to scarlet the heretofore white cheek,--"I'm not out
of my senses; there is so much to be done--so much--and no one but
me to do it, you know--though I can't rightly tell what it is,"
looking up with bewilderment into Mrs. Jones's face. "I must not go
mad whatever comes--at least not yet. No!" (bracing herself up)
"something may yet be done, and I must do it. Sailed! did you say?
The John Cropper? Sailed?"
"Ay! she went out of dock last night, to be ready for the morning's
tide."
"I thought she was not to sail till to-morrow," murmured Mary.
"So did Will (he's lodged here long, so we all call him 'Will'),"
replied Mrs.
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