"He is dying?" whispered Ruth. The intruder was handsomely, even richly, attired in a scarlet riding-suit, embroidered with gold; a broad belt, to which a hanger was attached, crossed his shoulders; his boots rose above his knee, and he carried a laced hat in his hand. Among the commercial enticements McClintock found a real letter. She was herself conscious of a recklessness of spirits almost hysterical. ‘C’est ridicule. He's as nice and civil-spoken a gentleman as need be; by the same token," she added, in an under tone, "that he gave me a span new crown piece. But he was destined to have every tide of feeling awakened—every wound opened.
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