It throbs cruelly. Spurling had retired for the night. And here you are!” Her aunt opened all the fingers of her gloved hand in a rhetorical gesture. He looked from the sword to the dagger with which he had brought her down here, and grimaced. His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear. Her aunt had summoned up an altogether too vivid picture of her father as the masterful man, overbearing, emphatic, sentimental, noisy, aimless. Ruth loved him. "Hands off!" she exclaimed, "or you'll repent it. I've a few necessary directions to leave with my people, to put 'em on their guard against the chance of a surprise.
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