Feigning an air of casualness, Lucy asked the obvious. “You love some one else?” he repeated. ” “But it is too late,” she declared. He had often read about it, and once he had incorporated it in a story, that invisible force which sent men to prison and to the gallows, when a tongue controlled would have meant liberty indefinite. He knew she had been weeping. Her features were still slightly marked by the disorder alluded to in the description of her as a child,—but that was the only drawback to her beauty. Beyond was a narrow bridge, crossing a circular building, at the bottom of which lay a deep well. Curiosity held her by one hand, urging her to recklessness, and caution held her by the other. Only identity, and a chance to be someone other than a nun. The affair passed at one leap from a spree to a nightmare of violence and disgust. There was a black fear in his heart. Wood was an old friend of mine—and I recollect seeing Jack when he was bound 'prentice to him. Let me recommend a glass of wine. For I still love her mother.
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