Fine woman, Lady Trafford—a little on the wane though. Purney's hand-writing," said Jack, advancing, "and can at once decide whether this is a forgery or not. "Spare him!" cried Mrs, Sheppard, who fancied she had made some impression on the obdurate breast of the thief-taker,—"spare him! and I will forgive you, will thank you, bless you. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance. ” “I feel—All this is the rightest of all conceivable things.
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