nd
Ironsyde and demand mighty damages.

"You can hurt him there, if you can't anywhere else," said Nancy
Buckler. "You say you're too weak to hurt him, but you're not. Knock his
money out of him; you ought to get thousands."

Her mother, for a time, was of the same opinion. It seemed a right and
reasonable thing that Sabina should not be called upon to face her
ruined life without some compensation, but she found herself averse from
this. The thought of touching his money, or availing herself of it in
any way, was horrible to her. She knew, moreover, that such an
arrangement would go far to soothe Raymond's conscience; and the more he
paid, probably the happier he would feel. For other causes also she
declined to take any legal steps against him, and in this decision
Ernest Churchouse supported her.

He had been her prime consolation indeed, and though, at first, his line
of argument only left Sabina impatient, by degrees--by very slow
degrees--she inclined to him and suffered herself to hope he might not
be mistaken. He urged patience and silence. He held that Raymond
Ironsyde would presently return to that better and worthier self, which
could not be denied him. His own abounding charity, where humanity was
concerned, honestly induced Ernest to hope and almost believe that the
son of Henry Ironsyde had made these proposals under excitation of mind;
that he was thrown off his balance by the pressure of events; and that,
presently, when he had time to remember the facts concerning Sabina, he
would be heartily ashamed of himself and make the only adequate amends.

It was not unnatural that the girl should find in this theory her
highest consolation. She clung to it desperately, though few but Mr.
Churchouse himself accounted it of any consequence. Him, however, she
had been accustomed to consider the fountain of wisdom, and though, with
womanhood, she had lived to see his opinions mistaken and his trust
often abused, yet disappointments did not change a sanguine belief in
his fellow creatures.

So, thankful to repose her mind on another, Sabina for a while came to
standing-ground in her storm-stricken journey. Each day was an eternity,
but she strove to be patient. And, meantime, she wrote and posted a
letter to her old lover. It was not angry, or even petulant. Indeed, she
made her appeal with dignity and good choice of words. Before all she
insisted on the welfare of the child, and reminded him of the cruelty
inf