Explore "The Nether Millstone" by Fred M. White on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Sir George clasped his hands to his eyes; everything for the moment had faded from his sight. The blood was rushing wildly through his head; there was a din like the clang of hammers in his brain. He was beside himself with grief and passion. His voice uprose again and broke the stillness of the night horribly. What were his title and his old family worth now? It was all as nothing, in the presence of this threatened calamity.
"Mary, Mary," he cried, "come to me. Come, whilst I have the strength left to tell you the truth. Tomorrow I shall be too weak, tomorrow I shall not dare to give all this up. Come, and tell him that you will have none of him."