"It is her child!" shrieked Rowland, in a voice heard above the howling of the tempest, "risen from this roaring abyss to torment me. \" Obediently, Lucia rose from her seated position on the bed and approached the baby and the mother in wonderment. She would be healthy, too, and vigorous. "He has not the power—perhaps not the will to do so. ’ ‘I do not lie to you now,’ she said, near frantic at the thought of losing him. ‘We?’ Gerald smiled. The uncanny directness of those gray eyes, the absence of diffidence, the beauty of the face in profile (full, it seemed a little too broad to make for perfect beauty), the mellow voice that came full and free, without hesitance, all combined to mark her as the most unusual young woman he had ever met. His idea was to get behind this sustained listlessness. She had never been so happy to vomit. ‘Why, what have I said?’ ‘You said to me my name. And a time will come, Veronica, mark my words, a time will come when you will bless me for my firmness to-night.
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