She turned her cheek to the cold sill; and by and by the sill grew warm and wet with tears. After encountering other dangers, and being twice, compelled to fling himself flat upon his face to avoid slipping from the wet and slimy pathway, he was at length about to emerge from the lock, when, to his inexpressible horror, he found he had lost the child! All the blood in his veins rushed to his heart, and he shook in every limb as he made this discovery. "Sir Rowland must be gone. Why should she trouble herself over that young fool, who was nothing to her; who, when he eventually sobered up, would not be able to recognize her, or if he did, as something phantasmagorical? Perhaps he should not apply the term "fool"; "unfortunate" might be the more accurate application. Kneebone, he took his departure. One’s got to be a better man than one’s father, or what is the good of successive generations? Life is rebellion, or nothing.
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