It was a serene and charming evening, and twilight was gently stealing over the face of the country. " "What's that?" "Think it over," said McClintock, grimly. . She turned to Lucilla, a plea in her face. Perhaps Gerald was not as clothheaded as he had thought. ’ The lady shook her head, contriving at the same moment to utter a breathy little laugh. The way it had happened was stupid, absurd. His frame was wasted, and slightly bent; his eyes were hollow, his complexion haggard, and his beard, which had remained unshorn during his hasty journey, was perfectly white. The problem had returned, made gigantic by the possibility of Ruth's love. He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. ” He took up his hat.
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