"And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son. It would be an ice storm by midnight if it did not let up. Later on I could scarcely have forgiven you. ’ ‘The word of whom?’ came scoffingly from the pretty lips. God forgive you!" "May He, indeed, forgive me!" returned Trenchard, crossing himself devoutly; "but my guilt is not the less heavy, because your child escaped. Jonathan stepped behind a curtain. It consisted, like pre-Roman Gaul, of three parts.
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