Explore "A Son of Ishmael" by L.T. Meade on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Jacob witnessed the parting between his master and mistress in the great hall of the old house. Without apparently noticing anything, he yet saw with vivid distinctness the queer grey pallor on Adrian Rowton's face; he noticed how Nance bit her lips, how tightly her hands were locked together; he saw a look in her eyes which touched him in spite of himself. The look was one of agony. As Nance bade a voiceless good-bye to her husband, her soul seemed to look straight into his. Jacob saw it all without appearing to see.
"Poor young lady," he muttered under his breath; "it ain't in me to be very sorry for anyone, but if I could have a spice of feeling it would be for Mrs. Adrian Rowton. She is so pretty and so kind. Whatever possessed her to give herself up, heart and soul, to that devil-may-care chap? -and yet, and yet, if he were not what he is, I could find it in my heart not to be greatly surprised. Ah, my fine fellow, you'll know what Jacob Short has found out about you. You'll lay low enough before long."