" Ruth slightly brushed the withered cheek. “Am I hurting you?” She asked. Wood; "I'll not bear it. “I wish you didn’t. "Shall I never banish those horrible phantoms from my couch—the father with his bleeding breast and dripping hair!—the mother with her wringing hands and looks of vengeance and reproach!—And must another be added to their number—their son! Horror!—let me be spared this new crime! And yet the gibbet—my name tarnished—my escutcheon blotted by the hangman!—No, I cannot submit to that. “I am sure you will marry Nigel sooner or later, and then all your work will be thrown away. "Where?" she cried.
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