At this point Lucy, in an effort perhaps—foolhardy, in Gerald’s opinion—to pour oil on troubled waters, rose swiftly to her feet and came towards the old man, her hand held out. " "A child!" thought Wood; it must be the fugitive Darrell. By a miracle, he averted its path, his hold on the girl’s mouth shifting fast to grasp her wrist. He had thought it might have that effect. Mr. I love your very breath. Her hair was gathered up behind, in a sort of pad, according to the then prevailing mode; and she wore a muslin cap, and pinners with crow-foot edging. ” She said. At last his voice came to release her tension. It was his mother, and as he gazed on her pallid features and motionless frame, Jack's heart severely smote him. Very likely by this time the whole truth is known.
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