"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. To these she added the wine and spirits directed, and when all was arranged looked inquisitively at her master. "I must have dropped it when I took out my note-book. What about them?” He called a hansom. Why should she? she asked rebelliously. ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ Martha begged.
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