The body of Sir Rowland was then laid on the large table. She wouldn't be able to pass by anywhere without folks turning their heads. "Brother," cried Lady Trafford, her eye blazing with unnatural light, and her cheek suffused with a crimson stain: "Brother," she cried, lifting her thin fingers towards Heaven, "as God shall judge me, I was wedded to that murdered man!" "A lie!" ejaculated Sir Rowland, furiously; "a black, and damning lie!" "It is the truth," replied his sister, falling backwards upon the couch. “I won’t have you quarrelling and crying in the Avenue,” he said. Let her see what she could make here.
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