'
His grey eyes searched her countenance with that horrible intensity
of fanaticism which is so like the look of cruelty, of greed, of any
passion originating in the baser self. Unlike too, of course, but it
is the pitilessness common to both extremes that shows most strongly
in an old, wrinkled visage. He had laid his hand upon her. Every
word was a stab ill the girl's heart, and so dreadful became her
torture, so intolerable the sense of being drawn by a fierce will
away from all she desired, that at length a cry escaped her lips.
She fell on her knees by him, and pleaded in a choking voice.
'I can't! Grandfather, don't ask it of me! Give it all to some one
else--to some one else! I'm not strong enough to make such a
sacrifice. Let me be as I was before!'
Michael's face darkened. He drew his hand away and rose from the
seat; with more than surprise, with anger and even bitterness, he
looked down at the crouching girl. She did not sob; her face buried
in her arms, she lay against the chair, quivering, silent.
'Jane, stand up and speak to me!'
She did not move.
'Jane!'
He laid his hand on her. Jane raised her head, and endeavoured to
obey him; in the act she moaned and fell insensible.
Pages:
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602
603