’ Chapter Five ‘Now then, young Jack,’ Gerald said, turning to the lad, who was sitting in the place lately vacated by his self-appointed mistress, but in a state of far less relaxation. "Mother!" cried the son, "help!" "What is this?" shrieked Lady Trafford, raising herself on the couch, and extending her hands towards him. "Forgive me—oh, forgive me!" "Forgive you—bless you!" she gasped. " "Does that villain still maintain his power?" asked the stranger sternly. Stanley, produced a portrait from its hiding-place in the jewel-drawer under the mirror. You did not learn that in a convent.
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