As she went on, the story began to sound more and more like a recitation. ’ ‘What about the lad?’ said the captain suddenly. The open books she knew by heart; aye, they had been ground into her, morning and night. His eyes looked a little bloodshot to her; his face had lost something of its ruddy freshness. It has all been a mistake. By the time he had reached the summit of this hill, he had lost all trace of them; and the ardour of the chase having in some measure subsided, he began to reproach himself for his folly, in having wandered—as he conceived—so far out of his course.
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