Think not on it!' neither will I,
but rather, I will fancy the morrow's sun glinting upon myriad
white-capped waves; the bosom of the ocean swelling with emotion
and--didst say 'twould make me ill, Janet?"
"I am afraid of it, 'twill be glorious if thou art not; for 'tis a
wonderful thing to see the rise and fall of sun and moon, and witness
storms that seldom fail to lend their fearfulness to the voyagers of
so long a journey."
"Wilt thou be afraid, Janet?"
"Nay, not I; 'twill be the elixir of ambrosia to breathe salt air
again, and the stronger and more mist-laden the better to knock out
foul exhalations sucked in these nine years from musty walls. 'Twill
be sweet to have the wind rap from us the various fungi that comes
from sunless chambers. Ah, a stiff breeze will rejuvenate thy fifteen
years one month to a lusty, crowing infant and my forty all-seasons to
a simpering wench."
"How splendid, Janet!" Katherine threw out her arms and drew a long,
deep breath. "'Twill be glorious to breathe pure, free air!"
"Aye, my Lambkin, and thy chest will broaden and be larger by two good
inches ere we see chalk cliffs and English waters.
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