"But, if I should not return, take this purse to Edgeworth Bess. But you,” he continued, moving imperceptibility a little nearer to her, “you are mine. Creeping stealthily up stairs, unmasking a dark lantern, and glancing into each room as he passed, he was startled in one of them by the appearance of Mrs. The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. I arranged that he should. Partly, from your confessor; partly, from other sources. She was a trained being—trained by an implacable mother to one end.
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