"The blood that has been spilt is that of his wife. The day is already half over. So far, however, was this submission from producing the desired effect, that it seemed only to lend additional fuel to her displeasure. There was no response. Despair engulfed her at the horrid remembrance that the one particular Englishman she knew to be sympathique did not at all wish to marry her. ’ She looked up again and smiled sweetly. No sterner head was ever beheld beneath the cowl of a monk, or the bonnet of an inquisitor. ’ He took a pace forward, seizing the gun with one hand, while the other locked her arm so that he could forcibly wrest the weapon from her.
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