And Lady Trafford having been carried down stairs, and placed within it, the postboy drove off, at a rapid pace for Barnet. I give myself to you. "Begone, wretch!" cried the mother, stung beyond endurance by his taunts; "or I will drive you hence with my curses. Her eyelids fluttered with recognition, and she cried out softly. She found herself struggling with a storm of tears.
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