"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. If I do not look after her, she has no one. But I have not done so, and will not. I'll speak to McClintock to-night and see if he won't take us for a junket on The Tigress. " "Sir Rowland is my brother," resumed Lady Trafford coldly.
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