. His face darkened. He wrote poems to her beauty that he recited from a seemingly infinite memory. Not conceiving that his sister—feeble as she was, and yielding as she had ever shown herself to his wishes, whether expressed or implied—would depart without consulting him, he was equally surprised and enraged to hear the servants busied in transporting her to the carriage. Sydney Courtlaw—Mr. Kneebone," she added, with a glance at that gentleman, which was meant to speak daggers, "will do as he pleases. His gaze remained steady on the old dame’s face, as he thought about it. "But I'm a blackguard, too, Ruth. “It is part of the irony of life,” he said. Ruth's gaze wandered from the printed page. He was accustomed to such surprises, and enjoyed them. That he was immolating Ruth on the altar of his conscience never broke in upon his thought for consideration.
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