It was a great weight from her shoulders to confide in another human being, and she suspected he did truly believe her. She stopped abruptly at the sound of his voice, and lost the thread of what she was saying. ‘And that Suzanne, the sister of my cousin the vicomte, must choose between Monsieur Charvill and her brother. Only your pa knew as how I were the one as saw to you at the wet-nurse’s cottage, and he got a-hold of me and made me bring him to you. ‘You are extremely empty-headed, Lucy. Come along home, Ruth. You are not going anywhere but to the Tredgold College. When she confessed all this to her charge, telling the now grown up babe that there was no hope in the world of establishing any claim, she very soon discovered her mistake. Mother—dear mother!" he added, clasping her in his arms, "Look at me again. She's too pretty and unusual. Perhaps she would have to charge this man and appear in a police-court next day. “You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated. He will be hanged—hanged—hanged. Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. It did affect the business that they all argued badly and were egotistical in their manners and inconsistent in their phrases.
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