She could not see what occurred, though she guessed it; but she saw Jonathan's devilish triumphing glance, and read in it,—"Your son has committed a robbery—here—in these holy walls—he is mine—mine for ever!" She uttered a loud scream, and fainted. " "From some of your associates?" "From your uncle, from my uncle,—Sir Rowland Trenchard. " "How did he take it?" "He did not seem to care. Wild," said the turnkey, trembling in every joint. She had never heard anything so unholy. "I don't see how I can improve it. But then you're an adopted son, and that makes all the difference. Pure romantic nonsense on her part. She set her fingers in the hair and tugged, drawing him to a sitting posture and stooping so that her eyes would be on the level with his when he awoke.
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