“You must leave me your address if you please,” he said, as she rose to go. 47 was no more than a sort of railway compartment on the way to that. She and Courtlaw drove homewards together. The effort to maintain her self-control was almost superhuman. Wood, despair will come over me; and, dear as this babe is to me, far dearer than my own wretched life, which I would lay down for him any minute, I have prayed to Heaven to remove him, rather than he should grow up to be a man, and be exposed to his father's temptations—rather than he should live as wickedly and die as disgracefully as his father. Perhaps an hour passed before she laid aside the book. Murder, I say, has been done! Another murder will be committed if you don't prevent it. Even now, during the recurring doubts of the future, the thought of the island was repellent. You must dispose of the goldsmith's note I gave you yesterday, as soon as you arrive at Rotterdam.
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