” “Ah!” Sir John exclaimed. It isn’t. Your life is like a funeral March. No: I must face it out. I found him lying like this, the bleeding partly stopped by this scarf, else he had been dead by now. To—to find myself. In fine, to marry Ruth (if she would consent) as a punishment for what he had done! To whip his soul so long as he lived, but to let his body go free! To provide for her, to work and dream for her, to be tender and thoughtful and loyal, to shelter and guard her, to become accountable to God for her future. He turned round to keep Anna out by force if possible, but he was too late. By this time, the churchyard was crowded with spectators, some of whom dispersed in different directions in quest of the other robber. . Mr. ” TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: Typesetting and editing of the original book from which this e-text has been transcribed was inconsistent.
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