" CHAPTER XIII. There is no need of your friend to kill you, imbecile, because I shall do so this minute. Would you stand by me—and her?” “My dear Nigel!” she exclaimed. What sort of a standard of life yours may be I do not know, yet in your heart you know very well that every word you have spoken to me has been a veiled insult, every time you have come into my presence has been an outrage. She hoped that he would at long last remember his young male pride. I spend many delightful hours thinking of the pleasant and beautiful things of life. It had neither succumbed to her nor wrathfully overwhelmed her. Am I mistaken? Is your heart mine?" "It is—it is; and has ever been," replied Winifred, falling upon his neck. "It reminds you of a red sea suddenly petrified.
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