With a view to raise recruits for his corps, the warlike woollen-draper started for Lancashire, under the colour of a journey on business. "Wretch!" she cried, "you shall not force me to your hateful purpose. He knew that at this moment Ruth lay upon her bed in torment, for she was by nature tender; and the reaction of her scathing words, no matter how justifiable, would be putting scars on her soul. Her head ached with a hollow pain. Hurt beyond what he could imagine by the selfishness and pride of her forbears, whose fateful disputes had robbed her of the life she should have led, the plucky little devil had taken matters into her own hands.
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