Chapter IX BRENDON’S LUCK Anna sat in a chair in her room and sighed. We shall be torn in pieces if we are discovered. It was not a hopeful looking group. The man is a stranger to me. " "What did I say?" "Only one word," she said, offering her first white lie. "The shoulder-clappers!" added a lady, who, in her anxiety to join the party, had unintentionally substituted her husband's nether habiliments for her own petticoats. He came to her and stood before her, waiting, the morning light dazzling his eyes. Read it, and you'll find that your unfortunate uncle, Sir Rowland, surrenders to you all the estates in Lancashire. If she could have held it in, perhaps the Virgin Mary would have sent her a miracle as reward for her strength.
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