"Not so, Sir Rowland," returned Jonathan; "you are my prisoner. ’ ‘What, Madame Valade?’ demanded Gerald. . “Are these ordinary sapphires?” she said. Then he sensed the trap. The sun was setting, casting long dreary shadows across deformed apple trees. The haste to send her upon her way now had but one interpretation—the recognition of his own immediate danger, the fear that if this tender association continued, he would end in offering her a calamity quite as impossible as that which had happened—the love of a man who was in all probability older than her father! The hurt was no less intensive because it was so ridiculous. She is setting out for Hartford, Connecticut.
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