’ ‘You’re going to break into the house? You’re mad. And now her father said she must not go. He threw up his hand, reeled for a moment on his feet, and collapsed upon the floor. What of madame, his wife?’ ‘You know more of her than me,’ the girl said with a look of scorn. "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. A new thought checked her steps and she froze. Through that she had to go. If you ride past the church, and mount the hill, you'll come to Neasdon and then you'll not have above half a mile to go.
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