She would ignore him. " "The New Prison!" exclaimed Sheppard. "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. The expression, however, which would chiefly have interested a beholder, was that of settled and profound melancholy. She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor.
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