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. Mr. She aimed directly at Rhea’s head. He fancied that the turnkeys had discovered his flight and were in pursuit of him,—that they had climbed up the chimney,—entered the Red Room,— tracked him from door to door, and were now only detained by the gate which he had left unbroken in the chapel. There was no sense in creating further difficulties for herself by arguing with the sergeant over her identity. And by degrees, perhaps, that maiden distrust of yours that makes you shrink from my kisses, will vanish. Her heart swelled to suffocation. We’ll leave him here, with a couple of others.
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