"But if it is thy will to take me from him," she continued, as soon as her emotion permitted her,—"if he must be left an orphan amid strangers, implant, I beseech thee, a mother's feelings in some other bosom, and raise up a friend, who shall be to him what I would have been. Prison was beastly. And now," she added, glancing contemptuously at the woollen-draper, "I'll go to Jack Sheppard. She put out her hands to avoid his embrace. ’ ‘Comment? You wish to murder me?’ ‘No, I wish to beat you,’ he retorted. ‘Where was I? Oh yes. No instrument I've ever used has done me such good service. " Ruth had read from page to page in "The Child's Garden of Verse," generally unfamiliar to the admirers of Stevenson.
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