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He sat down. "Not the sort of stories young ladies should read. She was not squeamish—although the sight of the sergeant’s ominous preparations had severely tried her fortitude—but Kimble’s white face plagued her conscience. The stain upon our family is only half effaced: I have sworn the death of the villain and his bastard, and I will keep my oath. There was none. How Jonathan Wild's House was burnt down 458 XXXI. Wood was so much exhausted that he was obliged to retire to his own room, where he continued for some hours overpowered by grief. A pane of glass was shivered by each stone. "Rowland," said Lady Trafford, regarding him with a look of indescribable anxiety, "you have assured me that I shall behold my son.
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