To his intense satisfaction, Melusine bit her lip on a tremor. 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. She found herself talking to Capes in an undertone of rational admission. Farewell. She shuddered; the room was unfamiliar and unwelcoming. CHAPTER XV. You’re neither of you any longer under arrest.
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