"
CHAPTER XIII. He did not know—and probably never would unless
she told him—that it was very easy (and comfortable for a woman) to fall into
slatternly ways in this latitude. She had dreaded the beginning of
this hour. ‘Yes, tell us everything at once,’ instructed Lucilla, pushing him towards the
sofa she had vacated, and obliging him to sit beside her. Somehow logic could
not explain her. A strange betrothal!—the primal idea of which was escape! The girl, intent upon
abrogating for ever all legal rights of the father in the daughter, of rendering
innocuous the thing she had now named the Terror: the boy, seeking selfcrucifixion in expiation of his transgression, changing a peccadillo into
damnation!
It was easy for Ruth to surrender to the idea, for she believed she was loved; and
in gratitude it was already her determination to give this boy her heart's blood,
drop by drop, if he wanted it. . ”
“I wonder,” he said, a trifle irrelevantly, “what the future has in store for you. Gerald began to ease forward, deciding just how he would accost her. Nor was Jack by any means the only stripling in the room. ‘This is insupportable. Sheppard, vainly trying to discover a gleam of compassion
in the thief-taker's inexorable countenance,—"Mercy! mercy!"
"Pshaw!" rejoined Jonathan.
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