"You poor child!" said Prudence. He passed, and came loitering back and stood beside her, silently looking into her face. " "You're not going to betray me!" cried Jack, in alarm. Gerald would certainly have demanded back his sword. Some day I'm going to paint her; but that will be when I've retired. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life. If she could have held it in, perhaps the Virgin Mary would have sent her a miracle as reward for her strength. "You will not make it valueless in my eyes," he added, catching her in his arms, and pressing her to his breast. .
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