It was one of those old sliding trap affairs, narrow and steep of descent. “Because I hate you!” She spat. Annabel had spoken calmly enough and steadily, but his brain refused at first to accept the full meaning of her words. It was the first expression of the mother's blood. " "Poor soul!" ejaculated her son. One, by perseverance and industry shall obtain fortune, credit, and the highest honours; while the other by an opposite course, and dissolute habits, shall eventually arrive at Tyburn. How could she tell him of the evil that drew her and drew her, as a needle to the magnet?—the fascinating evil that even now, escaped as it was, went on distilling its poison in her mind? "Yes, yes!" said the doctor.
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