" "It matters not, Norris," replied Lady Trafford: "I would rather die on the road, than be exposed to another such scene as I have just encountered. "Let us fly from this frightful place. All was darkness, horror, confusion, ruin. Passing the old rectory, and still older church, with its reverend screen of trees, and slowly ascending a hill side, from whence he obtained enchanting peeps of the spire and college of Harrow, he reached the cluster of well-built houses which constitute the village of Neasdon. "If I had my old tools with me, we'd soon master this obstacle," he muttered. He cocked an eyebrow. I had to sell out, you see, when my father died, for the estate is in my hands. " "Back!" cried Rowland.
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