“I have no child,” said Britton; “you know that years have passed, and the child who was brought by—by—a man from the burning smithy, must be now a child no longer.”
“You would deceive poor Mad Maud, because she hunts you—ay, to the death, hunts you. You cannot escape me, Britton—you are d—d!”
“D—d! How—what mean you?”
“I am to see you die.”
“Pshaw! Tell me now, Maud, didst ever see the man again who rushed forth bleeding, with the child, from the Old Smithy.”
“What man was that?”
“Didst ever hear the name of Gray?”
“Gray! Gray! The angel asked me that.”
“Ha!”
“Yes—yes—Gray. Who is Gray?”