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SIR ROWLAND TO THE RESCUE.
From Scoresby Hall, near Weston Zoyland, young Westmacott rode home that Saturday night to his sister's house in Bridgwater, a sobered man and an anguished.

He had committed a folly which was like to cost him his life to-morrow.

Other follies had he committed in his twenty-five years--for he was not quite the babe that Blake had represented him, although he certainly looked nothing like his age.

But to-night he had contrived to set the crown to all.