"My mother,—my poor mother!" exclaimed Jack. Wood; "and I did so to see how far your effrontery would carry you. Then the lady smiled and her radiance, even in the darkness, warmed Gerald unexpectedly. She wanted his attention, but so did everyone else. ‘Ah, no,’ Gerald uttered at once, lowering his voice and infusing it with all the promise he could command. What he did not know was this: Ruth surrendered these little secrets because the doctor had warned her that the patient must be amused and interested. “What made you marry him? What made you leave Paris without a word to any one? What made you and your sister exchange identities?” “There is one answer to all those questions, Nigel,” she said, with a nervous little shudder. The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. "I don't see why I should be obliged to pay for doing my duty. ' We shall be pleased to see more of your work. You'll find the benefit of it by and by. What you did is called manslaughter, and at the worst there is only a very slight penalty, nothing to be frightened about in the least. Gerald doubted there would be many eager suitors, even assuming the comtesse was keen to marry off her daughter to a foreign protestant. But what can we do? Here am I, fixed to respectability and this laboratory; you’re living at home. I do not wish to return to Paris.
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