Ruth's arm trembled and her step faltered, but he was too far away in thought to be observant. The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. " Upon this he arose, and paced the room hastily backwards and forwards, as if further arranging his plans. Here we are absconding, pretending to be what we are not; shady, to say the least of it. “I knew,” she said, in a low despairing tone, “that people would talk. The poor wretch, driven by desperation to the commission of a crime which her soul abhors, is no more beyond the hope of reformation than she is without the pale of mercy. "I will have no satisfaction but his life.
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