’ ‘Poor sort of a mother,’ Martha said with bitterness. But she made no answer. His pride, however, would not suffer him to interfere with their proceedings; much less could he bring himself to acknowledge that he had been in the wrong, and entreat Lady Trafford to remain, though he was well aware that her life might be endangered if she travelled by night. There was more shouting. This was followed by heavy footsteps, and in another moment the dining-room door was flung open. Every eye was fixed upon the prisoner. They could not go on. But after all, what did it matter whether she had secrets or not? To him she was not a woman but a symbol; and one did not investigate the antecedents of symbols. Two shots were fired at him by Jonathan; one of which passed through his hat, and the other through the fleshy part of his arm; but he made good his retreat. In the midst of them there was a cart with a man in it—and that man was Jack—my son Jack—they were going to hang him.
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