. \" He had caught her in a moment of weakness; the hunger had made her emotional! She felt a terrible warmth surge from her loins. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. It was a boy baby cooing in swaddling clothes, a baby who had just been born to the butcher's servant across the alley, the maid Isobella who trailed behind, beaming. "O God!" he exclaimed, "I am severely punished. It is I who took the burden of your misdeeds upon my shoulders that you might become Lady Ferringhall. But here she met with a check. Her eardrums were burning with the echoes of those hideous shouts.
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