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Ashton, Warren T.

"Hatchie, the Guardian Slave; or, The Heiress of Bellevue"

It was all in vain. Could those papers have been
forgeries? It was a terrible thought to her.
The carriage stopped, and the attorney invited her to alight.
Change--anything, was a relief to the painful sensations which had
almost overpowered her, and without reflection she did so. Her faculties
were so confused she did not notice that it was not the private entrance
of the St. Charles. She took everything for granted, and accepted the
offered arm of De Guy. She crossed the broad side-walk, and, raising her
eyes, was overwhelmed by seeing at the side of the door she was about
to enter the sign of "_Anthony Marwell, Attorney and Counsellor at
Law_."
"Please to walk up stairs," squeaked the attorney, drawing her after him
to the inside of the door, which he immediately closed and bolted.
"Not a step further, sir!" said she, with as much firmness as she could
command. "What means this? Am I again betrayed?"
"Nay, nay, madam, walk up quietly," said De Guy, in a soothing tone, as
he applied a little gentle force to the arm he held.


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