" "It is strange," replied Winifred, artlessly. Standing on tiptoe, on a joint-stool, placed upon the bench, with his back to the door, and a clasp-knife in his hand, this youngster, instead of executing his appointed task, was occupied in carving his name upon a beam, overhead. Nigel, do you know that I have been very jealous?” He avoided the invitation of her eyes. Gerald swore. The child was now within reach; and, in another moment, he would have executed his deadly purpose, if an arm from behind had not felled him to the ground. She saw her mother, her pale face, a woman in a white robe, calling to her from a sun drenched balcony.
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