Wish SHE”—he indicated Miss Klegg’s back with a nod—“was at the bottom of the sea. There was still the pity of understanding in Ruth's eyes. There was a very substantial profit in the transaction, for he paid the natives in commodities—coloured cotton cloths, pipes and tobacco, guns and ammunition, household utensils, cutlery and glass gewgaws. A strange betrothal!—the primal idea of which was escape! The girl, intent upon abrogating for ever all legal rights of the father in the daughter, of rendering innocuous the thing she had now named the Terror: the boy, seeking selfcrucifixion in expiation of his transgression, changing a peccadillo into damnation! It was easy for Ruth to surrender to the idea, for she believed she was loved; and in gratitude it was already her determination to give this boy her heart's blood, drop by drop, if he wanted it. "You will find it true," replied Blueskin. She looked up and said, a little breathlessly, “I’m sorry, aunt, but I don’t think I can. I suppose my creed is, ‘I believe rather indistinctly in God the Father Almighty, substratum of the evolutionary process, and, in a vein of vague sentimentality that doesn’t give a datum for anything at all, in Jesus Christ, His Son. He couldn't be in better hands than those in which he has placed himself. The blast shrieked, as if exulting in its wrathful mission.
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