Wood's bed-chamber—it was locked, with the key left in it. "Mother!" cried the son, "help!" "What is this?" shrieked Lady Trafford, raising herself on the couch, and extending her hands towards him. She reached the station, and mingling with a crowd of excursionists who had come from the river on the other side, took her place in the train unnoticed. . . Do you want me, too?” “Yes,” she whispered foolishly, in the throes of rapture. Eyebrows knitting, she looked towards the ground a few feet away from him, guiltily.
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