Using the shirt, she cleaned away the blood. She felt a little ashamed of herself, a bit of a hypocrite. "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. There is everywhere at night in China the original fear of darkness. And, in spite of the boy's resistance, he plunged his hands into his pockets, and drew forth the miniature. She had found the mausoleum underneath a broken monument. "Is my house to be made a receptacle for all your natural children, Sir? Answer me that.
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