The young rascal had learnt from some of the women-servants that Lady Trafford was from home, and was in the very act of making off when I got down stairs. She nodded. " "I'm sorry I can't indulge you," replied her master, a little piqued. He will be some time in this comatose state. What passed between them I cannot think—I dare not. It's all your fault, you shaking coward! and, but that I feel sure you'll swing for your carelessness, I'd throw you into the well, too. Can’t travel alone, a pair of nuns.
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