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FORE:In the afternoon Lucy Hartwell came in to see Margaret, bringing some little gift, and asking how she fared. Wells could distinctly hear all that passed in the room below; and soon collected, from the conversation, that the visitor was the daughter of old Hartwell the ale-seller. He remembered her a pretty little girl when he had left the villagewith hazel eyes twinkling and brightening like a star; with a step as light, and a form as delicate and graceful as the greenwood fairy to whom she used to be likened. Her voice had deepened a little, but it had still much of the sprightly animation of her childhood."Here, you chaps, fetch a g?at and put him on itand d?an't let Naomi see him."
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FORE:"Mary Byles," he began, "I have one more question to ask you. How many drops of that fatal potion was it that Edith Holgrave told you to give my lord's infant?"
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FORE:"That boy is yours, my lord," said Sir Robert Knowles, "let who will be the mother!"
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FORE:"You could have no motive to destroy the childbut tell me quickly what you have to say." Calverley spoke with a harshness that instantly recalled all Mary's fears and selfishness.
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