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When the hero finally did appear, Ruth became filled with gentle self-mockery. The sergeant had not seen it for he understood nothing of what she told him. For an instant, Gerald wished the rest of the world away that he might go to her and administer appropriate comfort. She saw its depraved eyes, but worse were the glittering teeth as it smiled. Robbed of their prey, the fury of the mob became ungovernable. Rain pounded the tin roof, and waterfalls obscured the pavilion into its own private 91 chamber. She recalled how she had stretched out her arms toward the magic blue horizon. The man had favoured him with a brief nod, but the girl had gone so far as to offer a tiny smile, and a look under her lashes with which not even Gerald, for all his scant interest in female society, could fail to be familiar. His cheeks were puffy, and his eyes blood-shot. "Spare him!" cried Mrs, Sheppard, who fancied she had made some impression on the obdurate breast of the thief-taker,—"spare him! and I will forgive you, will thank you, bless you. She shook her head, almost breaking a smile. "I was not aware it was in danger," rejoined Darrell. The arrangement had been made by the town matchmaker, a frightening old oak of a man.
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