" "If you must go to prison, I will go with you," cried Mrs. . ” She breathed an inner sigh of relief. The lady whose husband had been Mayor of Hartlepool looked at Anna and sniffed. I’m sorry. The light fell upon the fugitive, who stood before him in an attitude of defence, with the child in his arms. Down under the incalculable selfishness of the penitent child there was the man's uneasy recollection of Judas. Was it that the struggle of things to survive produced as a sort of necessary byproduct these intense preferences and appreciations, or was it that some mystical outer thing, some great force, drove life beautyward, even in spite of expediency, regardless of survival value and all the manifest discretions of life? She went to Capes with that riddle and put it to him very carefully and clearly, and he talked well—he always talked at some length when she took a difficulty to him—and sent her to a various literature upon the markings of butterflies, the incomprehensible elaboration and splendor of birds of Paradise and hummingbirds’ plumes, the patterning of tigers, and a leopard’s spots.
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