Ruth's emotion was a primitive joy: she was essential in this man's life, and she would always be happy because he would always be needing her. For a time he would be the grim Protestant Flagellant, pursuing the idea of self-castigation. To this Jack replied, that he should be perfectly contented, provided he might have a small allowance of gin. "Shall I never banish those horrible phantoms from my couch—the father with his bleeding breast and dripping hair!—the mother with her wringing hands and looks of vengeance and reproach!—And must another be added to their number—their son! Horror!—let me be spared this new crime! And yet the gibbet—my name tarnished—my escutcheon blotted by the hangman!—No, I cannot submit to that.
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