Sir John looked about him, and somehow the laugh died away. “Perhaps,” he queried, “you wish to avoid being seen about with any one—er— connected with the profession, under present circumstances. "Shall I never banish those horrible phantoms from my couch—the father with his bleeding breast and dripping hair!—the mother with her wringing hands and looks of vengeance and reproach!—And must another be added to their number—their son! Horror!—let me be spared this new crime! And yet the gibbet—my name tarnished—my escutcheon blotted by the hangman!—No, I cannot submit to that. What!— you know so little of that child? She ran away from you. How different were his present feelings compared with those he had experienced on quitting it. The atmosphere at dinner was not propitious.
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