’ ‘As a matter of fact, it isn’t,’ conceded Gerald. . Then he turned round and gazed thoughtfully at the particular spot in the fog where Courtlaw had disappeared. ‘You are dead, you,’ he yelled back, leaping into the seat of the final pew. "Put down your burthen, monster!" shouted Wood, pointing an immense blunderbuss at him. They either ran to see or ran for shelter. 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.
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