Pausing with the intention of turning back, he glanced in the direction of the village church, the tower of which could just be seen through the trees. But his astonishment would have been great indeed had he known that not even her father had ever caressed her, either with lips or with hands. She tried to compose her thoughts, to think of the last six months, to steep herself in the calm beauty of the surroundings. Mother! do you know what you do? Would you sell yourself to this fiend?" "I would sell myself, body and soul, to save you," rejoined his mother, bursting from his grasp. He wanted to know what the joke against him was—if any. It isn’t because you’re good, but because I may be rotten bad; and there’s something—something living and understanding in you.
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