But that title he would not endure. She stared at him. Opposite, his pupil stood with bowed head and clasped hands. "To me?" gasped Winifred. He, who had faced the gale, would have been instantly stifled. It seemed at first the most beautiful afternoon of all time to her, and perhaps the thrill of her excitement did add a distinctive and culminating keenness to the day. She could not see what occurred, though she guessed it; but she saw Jonathan's devilish triumphing glance, and read in it,—"Your son has committed a robbery—here—in these holy walls—he is mine—mine for ever!" She uttered a loud scream, and fainted. "Thames Darrell once destroyed," pursued Jonathan. She felt her chest trying to float up, but the blessed undertow, the dreaded reason why she was warned to never bathe in the ocean, sucked her feet down, putting the decision where it belonged, into the hands of God. It is in the lower cupboard.
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