But at this, he halted, turning his frowning gaze back on her. The young lady with frizzled hair, whom Brendon had pointed out to her as Miss Ellicot, leaned forward from her hostess’s side. "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. —'Why, hang every bailiff that sets a foot in your territories, and you're safe,' says I. ” “But what are you going to do—where are you going to live?” Annabel asked.
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