Dear heart

“Dead — aye, sure enough he’s dead and gone below,” said the fellow with the bandage; “but if ever sperrit walked, it would be Flint’s. Dear heart, but he died bad, did Flint!”

"Dear heart!" exclaimed Mrs. Plummer soon after, as something rolled over the bare white boards from the folds of a dress she was vigorously shaking, before replacing it in the drawer, "how did she come by pearls?"