I will confide it to Father Spencer, who will acquaint you with it when I am no more. The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. I swore I would bring your husband to the gallows,—would plunge you in such want, such distress, that you should have no alternative but the last frightful resource of misery,—and I also swore, that if you had a son he should share the same fate as his father. ” “It is a conspiracy,” she exclaimed. ” “Oh, you mean Mr. " "So am I. . An unwelcome idea came to him. Bring the link.
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