The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. "Mr. What is your father's business?" The question was an impertinence, but Ruth was not aware of that. Over the mantel, set into an ornately carved panel with fluted columns at each end, was a portrait of a man on horseback. Ruth's emotion was a primitive joy: she was essential in this man's life, and she would always be happy because he would always be needing her. " "Be it so!" rejoined Sir Rowland, with concentrated fury; "but before we do part, I am resolved to know the name of your pretended husband!" "Torture shall not wrest it from me," answered his sister, firmly.
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