"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. "She has fallen into the villain's hands. This done, he let himself carefully down by it, and having only a few feet to drop, alighted in safety. A fire enveloped her, a fire which was strangely healing, filling her heart with warmth, blotting out the menace of the world. What a mercy that the blow aimed at her by the ruffian, Wild, though it brought her to the brink of the grave, should have restored her to reason! Ah! she stirs. ’ ‘It could hardly be less so,’ said Mrs Sindlesham tartly. ” “But I’m quite equal to taking care of myself, aunt. But though the shot took effect, as was evident from the stains on the ground, the villain escaped. .
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