Do you hear me, Sir? Won't you stir!" "Not a step," replied Langley, gruffly. “Lucy, do you forgive me?” She looked at him in earnest. The lad had just barely jangled it, when hurrying footsteps could be heard inside. There's another lad at the gate waiting for him—the same who was here just now, that Sir Rowland was speaking of, who fastened up the jewelcase for her ladyship. It is queer, but men of education and good birth fall swiftest and lowest. Steeples toppled, and towers reeled beneath its fury.
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