"Yes."
"And what is he like, John Girvan?
"Just like other bairns, my lady."
"How?"
"With yellow hair and a nose above his chin," replied the quartermaster, wiping the water out of his neck and wig.
"A bonnie golden-haired bairnie as ever you saw, Lady Rohallion," replied the dominie, with a glistening eye, for he had a kinder heart for children than the old bachelor Girvan; "and he minded me much of your ladyship's son, the master, when about the same size or age."
"And this poor child is the sole survivor of the wreck?"
"So far as we can learn, the sole—the only one!"
"Heaven help us! this is very sad!" exclaimed the lady, while her eyes filled with tears. "Many a mother will have a sore heart after this storm, and more than one widow may weep for a husband drowned."
"Ay, madam, in warring wi' the elements, we feel ourselves what the Epicureans of old dreamed they were—scarcely the creation of a benevolent Being, so helpless and infirm is man when opposed to them."