"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. Anna, my love, you cannot have forgotten so soon. But that did not stop Trodger, who had ridden up from Kent for the purpose, from detailing every little inspection and sortie that his men had made in their allotted task of watching Remenham House. She worried for her father in Mantua, 28 hoping that he was still alive. "You have," rejoined Jonathan, laying a forcible grasp on his shoulder. He said nothing. When they reached her rooms she stepped lightly out upon the pavement. When next he asked for her, some twelve hours later, he was told that Mademoiselle had left.
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