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The more her thoughts dwelt upon the subject, the more convinced she was that she could not go to any one for help; she would have to solve the riddle by her own efforts, by some future experience. Youth! You denied me even that," said Ruth, her glance now flashing to her father. "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. “By Jove!” he broke out, “one tries to take a serious, sober view. The watcher's intake of breath was sibilant. Oh, I think I understand, Annabel.
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