It is in vain to struggle against the arm of fate. "Sign this," he said, pushing the document towards Sir Rowland. “You mean to tell me” he said, “that you have a lover? While I have been keeping you! Yes—keeping you!” This view of life he hurled at her as if it were an offensive missile. White gasped, and then stiffened. Then I assumed a rather portentous manner to prepare him. No sterner head was ever beheld beneath the cowl of a monk, or the bonnet of an inquisitor. Dieu du ciel! Gerald was kissing her! She struggled to be free, and the arms that held her loosened, the lips leaving hers. "I beg pardon," he said. "Mercy on us!" cried he, as a thrill of apprehension ran through his frame. ’ It’s a duplicate of the French one.
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