"His life—or yours?" "No one shall harm you more, my dear," cried Lady Trafford. "Yes," answered the girl. " "They're lifting her out of the carriage," interposed Charcam; "will it please your honour to send for some advice and the chaplain?" "Fly for both," returned Sir Rowland, in a tone of bitter anguish. Then he stepped briskly to his feet and bent over the wounded man. He sees men all defiled by coarse thoughts, coarse ways of living cruelties. Michelle listed the items in her pack. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed.
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