"Where is the devotion?" exclaimed Valentine, suddenly rallying. "Let me only catch hold of that devotion, and I'll soon have it down on its knees, and old Craik's large red hands hovering over it and you, while he matches it as the Church directs to a devotion more than worthy of it, as I will the five hundred pounds with another."
"Ah, but you can't," said Laura, laughing also, "because he's in
America; and, besides, you don't know all."
"Oh, he's in America, is he?"
"Yes; at least I suppose he's on the high seas by this time, or he will be very shortly, for he's going up to New York."
"Up to New York! Where does he hang out then when he's at home?"
"At Santo Domingo."
"That at least shows his original mind. Not black, of course? Not descended from the woman who 'suddenly married a Quaker?'"
"Oh no, Valentine—an Englishman."
"An Englishman and live at Santo Domingo! Well, I should as soon have expected him to live in the planetary spaces. It would be much more roomy there, and convenient too, though to be sure a planet coming up might butt at him now and then."
"It is rather a large island," said Laura. "But, Valentine——"