Mary Remenham had passed on her every feature to the daughter whose advent had taken her from this world. But he was destined to have every tide of feeling awakened—every wound opened. “He fell over at my feet,” she continued. ” Michelle reported. I have suffered him to be brought up decently—honestly; because I would make his fall the greater, and deepen the wound I meant to inflict upon his mother. I hate children. Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands. I've watched this lad—this Sheppard—from infancy; and, though I have apparently concerned myself little about him, I have never lost sight of my purpose. He would condemn her to the vengeance of the mob all for refusing to marry him. She was looking about her, and her face was dark with anger. "No matter how much I tell of myself, I shall always keep something back.
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