Her cheeks flushed a dull red. " "Law! Miss," observed the maid, "there's nothing mischievous in the person's appearance, I'm sure. "And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son. Read it, and you'll find that your unfortunate uncle, Sir Rowland, surrenders to you all the estates in Lancashire. ‘That is not your affair. Spurlock's vision was oddly of the past.
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