In this cell was a huntsman, who had fractured his skull while hunting, and was perpetually hallooing after the hounds;—in that, the most melancholy of all, the grinning gibbering lunatic, the realization of "moody madness, laughing wild. The old aspect of the place was gone. It is I who took the burden of your misdeeds upon my shoulders that you might become Lady Ferringhall. If the boy was legging it alone…. ” She could not go on, for she was laughing and crying at the same time. And if the woman is not a rival, she must be—yes, that must be it. ” Miss Miniver’s manner became impressive.
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