" Jonathan's eyes glistened as he told over the notes. When they reached the door, he kissed her 246 again. But give me till to-morrow—only till to-morrow—I may be able to part with him then. It is Thérèse. She could not see what occurred, though she guessed it; but she saw Jonathan's devilish triumphing glance, and read in it,—"Your son has committed a robbery—here—in these holy walls—he is mine—mine for ever!" She uttered a loud scream, and fainted. When she got back to her questions again in the monotonous high-road that led up the hill, she found the image of Mr. “Really, Sir John,” she said, “I don’t know how to thank you. Something happened down there, and probably I'll never know what. And he, her lawful husband, dared not go to her and console her! Accursed—all of them— Enschede, Ruth, and himself. What had she so nearly said? She had almost spoken a name—and quickly withdrawn it. “I was sick of the make-believe.
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