” She felt, with a sudden horror, that she might weep. Feel for the lock, and prize it open,—you don't need to be told how. “You were really at Moulton House,” she exclaimed penitently. Besides, Gerald would not for the world have passed up the chance of a little excitement. Crack went the whip, and away floundered the heavy vehicle through the deep ruts of the ill-kept road, or rather lane, (for it was little better,) which, then, led across Southampton Fields. “She found my collection of witchcraft books under my bed and threw them away. I do not know.
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