"It is her child!" shrieked Rowland, in a voice heard above the howling of the tempest, "risen from this roaring abyss to torment me. Hastening to the spot where he had tied his horse to a tree, he vaulted into the saddle, and rode off across the fields,—for he was fearful of encountering the hostile party,—till he reached the Edgeware Road. He had put himself before the threshold of damnation; for Ruth was now a vestal in the temple. This way there will be not so much shame, and the vicomte will let them remain. T. Anna leaned back with half closed eyes. At the back of the house, on a bank, rose an old-fashioned terrace-garden, full of apple-trees and other fruittrees in blossom, and lively with the delicious verdure of early spring. I'll try to think better of him in future.
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