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’ There was a kind of aching hunger in Gerald’s gaze. The light fell upon the fugitive, who stood before him in an attitude of defence, with the child in his arms. Arrived at the extremity of the building, he found that it overlooked the flat-roof of a house which, as far as he could judge in the darkness, lay at a depth of about twenty feet below. Then she looked up at Brendon. . . I have suffered him to be brought up decently—honestly; because I would make his fall the greater, and deepen the wound I meant to inflict upon his mother. He saw her young and graceful back as she descended from the carriage, severely ignoring him, and recalled a glimpse he had of her face, bright and serene, as his train ran out of Wimbledon. She inhaled a deep breath of air—London air. ” For a moment she was grave. Very few survived her trials.
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