Lady Trafford uttered a prolonged scream, and fainted. "But if my career were truly exhibited, it must be as one long struggle against destiny in the shape of—" "Jonathan Wild," interposed Gay. The Yale spirit! Ah Cum smiled whimsically. "Begone, wretch!" cried the mother, stung beyond endurance by his taunts; "or I will drive you hence with my curses. Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners.
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