But did Gerald trouble himself about her? No. "To paint your portrait," answered the jailer. "Too late!" shrieked the lady, falling heavily backwards,—"too late!—oh!" Heedless of her cries, Jonathan passed a handkerchief tightly over her son's mouth, and forced him out of the room. She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue. Spurlock stared at Ruth across the rim of his bowl. The faithful fellow will never leave me. Then he turned on his heel and walked off. They were sitting alone, Lucy.
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