id
not know which she was.

"Mrs Denbigh's little boy," answered Mary.

Under some pretence or other, he drew near to Ruth; and in that low
voice, which she had learnt to loathe, he said,

"Our child!"

By the white misery that turned her face to stone--by the wild terror
in her imploring eyes--by the gasping breath which came out as the
carriage drove away--he knew that he had seized the spell to make her
listen at last.

CHAPTER XXIV

The Meeting on the Sands

"He will take him away from me! He will take the child from me!"

These words rang like a tolling bell through Ruth's head. It seemed
to her that her doom was certain. Leonard would be taken from her!
She had a firm conviction--not the less firm because she knew not on
what it was based--that a child, whether legitimate or not, belonged
of legal right to the father. And Leonard, of all children, was the
prince and monarch. Every man's heart would long to call Leonard
"Child!" She had been too strongly taxed to have much power left
her to reason coolly and dispassionately, just then, even if she had
been with any one who could furnish her with information from which
to draw correct conclusions. The one thought haunted her night and
day--"He will take my child away from me!" In her dreams she saw
Leonard borne away into some dim land, to which she could not follow.
Sometimes he sat in a swiftly-moving carriage, at his father's side,
and smiled on her as he passed by, as if going to promised pleasure.
At another time he was struggling to return to her; stretching out
his little arms, and crying to her for the help she could not give.
How she got through the days, she did not know; her body moved about
and habitually acted, but her spirit was with her child. She thought
often of writing and warning Mr Benson of Leonard's danger; but then
she shrank from recurring to circumstances, all mention of which had
ceased years ago; the very recollection of which seemed buried deep
for ever. Besides, she feared occasioning discord or commotion in the
quiet circle in which she lived. Mr Benson's deep anger against her
betrayer had been shown too clearly in the old time to allow her to
think that he would keep it down without expression now. He would
cease to do anything to forward his election; he would oppose him
as much as he could; and Mr Bradshaw would be angry, and a storm
would arise, from the bare thought of which Ruth shrank with the
cowardliness of