plowed her way along, looking like a gigantic illuminated lantern with lights blazing from one end of her to the other. At intervals her long, hoarse whistle screamed over the waters, and presently, with much noise and churning, she bumped against the wharf and was made fast. Her gangplank was thrown out, and a few passengers in the humbler walks of life stepped off; but, in a moment, the captain himself appeared, escorting a woman in a long fur cloak. The light from a lantern on the wharf fell directly upon her, and as soon as the Colonel saw her, he understood why she should have the captain's escort. She was about forty, apparently, and her abundant dark hair was slightly streaked with gray. But there was not a line or a wrinkle in her clear, pale face, and her eyes had the beauty of a girl of fifteen. There was something peculiarly elegant in her whole air—the long seal-skin mantle that enveloped her, the close black bonnet that she wore, her immaculate gloves and shoes—Colonel Corbin at once recognized in her a metropolitan.
She remained talking with the captain for a few moments, until he was obliged to leave. It took only a short while to discharge the small
