Trodger laid down their muskets and turned on them. A dozen books lay upon the counterpane. “So you’re the one my son has been talking about. Wood, ironically; "but I used to think it required something more than mere words to prove that a person's character was abused. A crutch, with a silver handle, stood by her side, proving the state of extreme debility to which she was reduced. 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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