"Shall I never banish those horrible phantoms from my couch—the father with his bleeding breast and dripping hair!—the mother with her wringing hands and looks of vengeance and reproach!—And must another be added to their number—their son! Horror!—let me be spared this new crime! And yet the gibbet—my name tarnished—my escutcheon blotted by the hangman!—No, I cannot submit to that. But he seized the chance to entrap her fingers, fan and all, and look deeply into her eyes. " "I know you'll contradict it, Sir," said the widow, looking at Wood as if she dreaded to have her fears confirmed,—"I know you will. John said nothing. “Thousands! Ugh! And found it a worse slavery. . I keep on thinking of you. “I am going to ask for your forgiveness. She had, it was true, accepted doubtfully the pen he had offered.
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