“You must tell me the truth, and I will see that no harm comes to you. "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. She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. Let’s go. ” He mumbled, driving on. “Further than that, I am amazed that you should dare to allude to those few moments, to that single moment of folly. “You say you want a vote,” said Mr.
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