His wife met him at the door, and into her hands he delivered his little charge. As he proceeded, other painful reminiscences were aroused. And Lady Trafford having been carried down stairs, and placed within it, the postboy drove off, at a rapid pace for Barnet. "Zounds! what's that!" he cried, as the noise of a scuffle was heard behind them. " "You were so," replied Mrs Sheppard; "and for that wicked deed you will one day be brought to the gallows yourself. ‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her. I want to leave Paris to-day.
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