"Your wife?" "His lawful wife," said Ruth, with fine dignity. My feelings overpower me. I was sorry for what I did afterwards; for, I don't know why, but, poor, lady! with her pale face, and black eyes, she reminded me of my mother. She is extremely lovely, but for her to have borne the name of the Blessed Virgin would have been nothing short of sacrilege. Because here was the haven for which she had been blindly groping: the positive abolition of all her father's rights in her—the right to drag her back. I left him in charge of Quilt Arnold and Rykhart Van Galgebrok—the skipper I spoke of— with strict orders to shoot him if he made any further attempt at escape; and they're not lads—the latter especially—to be trifled with. He patted the hand on his sleeve. And every day's experience proves that I was right.
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