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Gerald glanced down and saw her dash at a spread of blood on his own hand, only now realising that her dagger had found its mark. So far he had not stirred; from his bloodless lips had come no sound. If you had any idea what depths people have sunken to as you reside safely in this high fortress, you would search your soul to find the mote of charity left there. When first brought under consideration, she was a miserable and forlorn object; squalid in attire, haggard in looks, and emaciated in frame. The aspect of the place, so far as he could discern through the gloom, was strange to him; but chancing to raise his eyes above the level of the surrounding habitations, he beheld, relieved against the sombre sky, the tall steeple of Saint Giles's church, the precursor of the present structure, which was not erected till some fifteen years later. He had let go his name so easily as that! What was the name she had given? Ruth something; he could not remember. “You are positively eloquent to-night—both of you,” she declared.

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