She could not have repeated it to make it comprehensible.

She drank at every sentence, getting no more from it than the gratification of her thirst.

His father, at least, was a man of title, a baronet.

What was meant by estates not entailed?
What wild freak of fate put this noble young man in the power of an eccentric parent, who now caressed him, now made him an outcast?
She heard of the sum that was his, coming from his dead mother to support him just one hundred pounds annual! Was ever fate so mournful?
Practically, she understood that if Mr.Barrett would write to his father, pledging himself to conform to his mysterious despotic will in something, he would be pardoned and reinstated.
He concluded: "Hitherto I have preferred poverty.

You have taught me at what a cost! Is it too late ?" The fall of his voice, with the repetition of her name, seemed as if awakening her, but not in a land of reason.
"Why...why!" she whispered.
"Beloved ?" "Why did you not tell me this before ?" "Do you upbraid me ?" "Oh, no! Oh, never!" she felt his hand taking hers gently.