Spurling had retired for the night. "Mother!" cried the son, "help!" "What is this?" shrieked Lady Trafford, raising herself on the couch, and extending her hands towards him. When sentence was passed there wasn't a dry eye in the court. “You are not going out—this evening, I trust,” that lady asked, a trifle dismayed. By this time, the procession had reached the west end of the wall of St. ‘Please to sit, monsieur.
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