“I really do not believe,” he announced with satisfaction, “that any one would recognize me. ’ So pat, thought Gerald. ’ ‘Merci,’ she sighed and, surrendering at last to his oft-proffered aid, allowed her head to droop onto his chest. You see, I’m selfish. But to make an arrest to be like a revenge? No, a thousand times. She had a feeling at his departure as of an immense cavity, of something enormously gone; she could not tell whether it was infinite regret or infinite relief. I should like to know how it is concerned with Sir John Ferringhall, and how my presence intervenes. He was unaware that his illness had opened the way to the inherent conscience and that the acquired had been temporarily blanketed, or that there was any ancient fanaticalism in his blood.
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