Wood, at Dollis Hill —" "Let me have one," said a carpenter, who was passing by at the moment,—"Mr. Earles. "There is Dollis Hill," said the man, pointing to a well-wooded eminence about a mile distant, "and there," he added, indicating the roof of a house just visible above a grove of trees "is Mr. After a little further discourse the old man took his departure. "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. E. Blueskin will take care of the horses, and I'll go with you. “It is about your sister, Lady Ferringhall. "The Chevalier shall hear of this," whispered the woollen-draper. “I do not think so. “If any one should know——you should! He was your friend. But underneath this tolerance there is always the vague hope that your manhood will someday reassert itself. It may be, it probably will all come to, nothing. It seems to me just talk; it seems to me like the fancy of a dream.
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