Books! She knew now what had saved her—her mother's hand, reaching down from heaven, had set the giver's flaming eyes upon the covers of these books. " "Sir Rowland is my brother," resumed Lady Trafford coldly. The overnight nervous strain began to tell; she became inattentive to the work before her, and it did not get on. ” Mike said. ” “I told them a lie. That is how I learned that there were such things as novels. "What has put it into your head that your son yet lives?" he asked. I might forgive him that, for he obviously taught her a good deal that she has found useful. Besides, I'm afraid her simple honesty will spoil any invented yarn. "Have a moment's patience, Sir Rowland," returned Wild; "and you shall hear. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. , like to forget all about it—even their names. "Rowland," said Lady Trafford, regarding him with a look of indescribable anxiety, "you have assured me that I shall behold my son.
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