Sheppard—becomes entitled to the estates; which eventually—provided he escaped the gallows—would descend to her son. The poor wretch, driven by desperation to the commission of a crime which her soul abhors, is no more beyond the hope of reformation than she is without the pale of mercy. What the devil is the matter, Dunster?” “I beg your pardon, sir,” the man answered, “there is a lady here to see you. She heard their feet and muffled voices. A piece of old blanket was fastened across her shoulders, and she had no other clothing except a petticoat. ” “I care as a man cares only once in his life,” he answered promptly. I am Lucilla Froxfield, you must know.
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