'If a were as young as once a were--nay, lad, if a had na these sore rheumatics, now--a reckon as t' press-gang 'ud find out as t' shouldn't do such things for nothing.

Bless thee, man! it's waur nor i' my youth i' th' Ameriky war, and then 't were bad enough.' 'And Kinraid ?' said Sylvia, drawing a long breath, after the effort of realizing it all; her cheeks had flushed up, and her eyes had glittered during the progress of the tale.
'Oh! he'll do.

He'll not die.

Life's stuff is in him yet.' 'He'll be Molly Corney's cousin, I reckon,' said Sylvia, bethinking her with a blush of Molly Corney's implication that he was more than a cousin to her, and immediately longing to go off and see Molly, and hear all the little details which women do not think it beneath them to give to women.

From that time Sylvia's little heart was bent on this purpose.