In the next place, she really had some pretensions to beauty. How long wilt thou forget me, O Lord? for ever? How long wilt thou hide thy face from me? She came upon the Song of Songs—which had been pasted down in the Enschede Bible—the burning litany of love; and from time to time she intoned some verse of tender lyric beauty. "Fear!" echoed Wild, in a terrible tone,—"fear! Repeat that word again, and nothing shall save you. Captain Roding either did not know, or did not remember that she had it. . A carpenter's daughter is no fit match for a peer of France.
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