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Sydney Courtlaw—Mr. "
"Bring your story to an end, Sir," said Trenchard who had listened to the recital
with mingled emotions of rage and fear. That’s the fact of the matter. In a fit of despondency, superinduced
by drunkenness, he made away with himself; and when the body was discovered,
after a lapse of some months, such was the impression produced by the spectacle
—such the alarm occasioned by the crazy state of the building, and, above all, by
the terror inspired by strange and unearthly noises heard during the night, which
were, of course, attributed to the spirit of the suicide, that the place speedily
enjoyed the reputation of being haunted, and was, consequently, entirely
abandoned. "You are the son of Sir
Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. Tell Bess to
slip out, and I'll put on her cloak and hood. ‘What in the world is that?’ demanded Miss Froxfield. Traversing Angel Court, and Green Arbour Court,—celebrated as one of
Goldsmith's retreats,—he speedily reached Seacoal Lane, and pursuing the same
course, which he and Thames had formerly taken, arrived at the yard at the back
of Jonathan's habitation. How long shall I be kept in this bed?"
"That's particularly up to you. "And the will?" he said, with forced calmness. He dressed mechanically; so many moves this
way, so many moves that.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 28-06-2024 13:00:25