‘I thought—I thought I saw my—my husband. Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother. They almost made me feel like they were mine. The ambitions of his life, and they were many, seemed to lie far away, broken up dreams in some outside world where the way was rough and the sky always grey. I want to love him. A crutch, with a silver handle, stood by her side, proving the state of extreme debility to which she was reduced. But whatever she may have said was lost as Gerald pinned her to the wall, the point of the sword at her throat. "Where is the boy?" demanded Sir Rowland. The poor child! What frightful things she must have seen on that island of hers! The noise of crashing glass caused a diversion; and Ruth turned gratefully toward the sound.
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