‘It is in no way your affair, monsieur, and you will unhand me at once. I've a few necessary directions to leave with my people, to put 'em on their guard against the chance of a surprise. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. They did not speak until he had driven past town limits and were on the highway. There was nothing to be learned from her face. It will be hot work, but it must be done at once. "I'll run and bring him back. “I’m six hundred and forty-eight, John, but guess how old I look? Fifteen. I consented to become Mrs.
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