"Mother!" cried the son, "help!" "What is this?" shrieked Lady Trafford, raising herself on the couch, and extending her hands towards him. He spoke the automatic thought that entered his mind. Her glance, absorbing the gilt letters and their significance, communicated to her poised body a species of paralysis. Not content with this, the assailants set fire to the house in half-a-dozen other places; and the progress of the flames was rapid and destructive. She heard Gianfrancesco arguing with Sebastianus. . She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended.
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