"Mother! dear mother!" cried Jack, folding her to his breast. Daughters were not like sons. Whatever may happen to-morrow I shall be none the better for anticipating its miseries to-day. In the artificial light her skin had the tint and lustre of a yellow pearl. Wait a little; rest. Gold-handled, too. ” “What did you hear?” Lucy felt herself unwillingly compelled to hang on Michelle’s every word. 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. 4. .
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