Lucy stared out to the busy streets beyond. “Glaciers?” she said. Don’t you care for Nigel at all?” Anna was silent for a moment or two. 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. "But they will find the evidences of slaughter in the other room,—the table upset,—the bloody cloth,— the dead man's sword,—the money,—and my memorandum, which I forgot to remove. The locket contained the face of her mother—all the family album she had. Shy, grateful in her loneliness for this unexpected attention, she had listened. Why had Ruth married him? A penniless outcast, for she must have known he was that.
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